Character-Sitting
by Rennyangelee
Summary: A twist on the phantom-meets-phan premise that seems to be so very popular in this phandom: Erik comes to my world sort-of willingly. Chapters get better as you read; I promise. And I might be stating the obvious but: hard-core phangirling for phangirls contained within.
1. Chapter 1

I apologize for any formatting mess-ups. I'm blind and use a screenreader but don't usually bother with making documents look pretty. (I also had enough of format nitpicking in school, thank you very much.)

I do not own anything that is copywrited, bla bla bla. I don't own people that make cammios or inspire happenings in later chapters. I only own myself and my imagination … and my guide dog!

"Character-sitting, or Fan-sitting: the experience for a character and fan to explore and to understand each other's worlds.

This site assists with both character and fan sitting.

CHARACTER-SITTING: a fan signs up to take a chosen character from the universe and to have that character reside with them in their home and their world.

FAN-SITTING: fans sign up to go to the universe of a chosen character, and live with that character in their home and in their world.

Characters will be notified after fans have registered. Rules will be provided for both the fan and character.

There is also the option of having a "friend" to assist the fan and/or character during the time of the stay."

Interesting. Is this real? Oh well-no harm in browsing. ... Wow, they really have everyone. The Harry Potter characters were endless. There were Disney characters, Nickelodion characters, Dreamworks characters, animated and real-life characters. Hiccup and Toothless were a package deal. Having someone like Rory Flanigan from Glee would rock. Haku from "Spirited Away" would be fun, but then I'd have to take Chihiro, too; I want to keep them together. Can you host more than one character? ... What character would even agree to hosting a crazy fan?

Maybe if that character's crazy too-but Erik wouldn't say yes.

So I guess I'll have to host him! Okay, "Phantom of the Opera." Books, not movies or musicals.

"For characters with many adaptations, infbluences from any desired adaptation may be chosen in adition to the main adaptation."

Maybe ... a little personality from Yestern and Copet. I chose Susan Kay's book as the main one, and stuck in mild Laroux influences/mannerisms and knowledge of all the adaptations I knew. But I picked "moderately influenceble personality" instead of mildly or completely, because I didn't want a mindless, dependent phantom, but I also didn't want an uncontrolable, almost-Laroux Erik.

"This character has the option of an Assisting Character. Nadir Kahn, or the Persian, is suggested as a help for the host when this Erik is unreachable or unconsoleable by the host."

Eh, why not? I love the Persian.

I clicked the "Submit request" button, and received a thank-you page. But the page asked for my e-mail. I put in the e-mail I made for my "junk YouTube account." I used that sign-in when I didn't want something linked to my name, and since I never used that account for anything big anyway, I doubt anyone would find me or any personal information through it.

A couple days later, I checked that e-mail just for giggles.

"THANK YOU FOR REGISTERING WITH CHARACTER SITTERS

Dear Renny,

Thank you for offering to host a character. This e-mail includes all information you need to know about your character before accepting. Attached, you will find a document of guidelines to insure you and your character have the best experience possible. After reading through the document thoroughly, please click

'accept'

or

'no thanks'

to confirm or deny your request for this character. Any aditional information or questions will be handled once the request is accepted. If you choose to deny your request, no harm will come to you or to any character. The request and necessary information will be sent to your character only after you have verrified your acceptance.

Thanks again,

The Character Sitting team."

Okay, I guess I'll read the documents. Then I'll deny the request. This was fun, but it was getting too real. I mean, I never saw a disclaimer. If I can verify that this is actually real and an actual character is coming-no. Impossible. That can't happen.

GUIDELINES FOR YOUR ERIK

* Prepare a secluded, dark room in the house for Erik to be when he feels he needs alone time. A basement is ideal, but not absolutely necessary; Erik can be flexible.

* Erik will come with all necessary clothes and accessories. Please notify us (when you accept your Erik) if any accessories are a must have or a must not have:

\- keyboard (includes headphones; Erik will have learned to work an electronic keyboard)

\- Punjab lasso (not recommended for a phan who does not like Erik's murderous tendencies; if chosen, you should probably keep this with you and only hand it over to Erik in the presence of your enemies or people whose lives you don't care about)

\- violin

\- various masks and outfits for various ocasions

\- cell phone (if you would like your Erik to eventually modernize)

\- Ayesha (not recommended if you already own a pet)

\- _Don _Juan _Triumphant/morphine (these two things cannot be separated)

\- equipment for composing (staff paper, pens and ink)

\- Red Death costume (includes mask)

\- black cape

Your Erik will come wearing a customized flesh-colored mask, making him look like any other man.

* Erik will possibly start out aloof and uninterested. Be patient; Nadir Kahn, the assistant character, will help him warm up to you if necessary. If he attaches to you quicker than expected, and you are suspicious, contact Mr. Kahn. However, if Mr. Kahn assures you that you have nothing to worry about, enjoy your devoted Erik.

* Limit his interactions with other members of the household-only have him interact with whom you wish him to attach. You'll know when it is safe for him to interact with others; he will get clingy and posessive over you if you do this right (proceed with caution).

* A cover story will be fabricated for all members of the household. However, you must not share your Erik's information with anyone, even the most devoted phans of friends. Stick to the cover story.

* Please allow Erik time to adjust to the new century and new culture as well as to you. EVENTUALLY, he should be able to go out in public with you and function as a member of your society.

* You must remember to be flexible as well-research on 19th-century France as well as the Baroque period of music is suggested. Any phan knows that you must not allow Erik complete control over you, as this could be dangerous; but equally dangerous is not having knowledge about Erik's own culture and history.

* Do not show him any books, films or songs about his story immediately; wait until he is comfortable with you to bring up the topic.

* NEVER EVER disregard your Erik's unpredictability.

* Keep in mind that an Erik is still an Erik, no matter how quickly he adjusts. Erik will lash out if he feels threatened. Moodswings are always possible (ex: unexpected rage to intense self loathing). You must also be mindful of his passion: Erik's tendency to be ruled by obsessive feelings could lead to clinginess, jealousy, posessiveness, even harm if no interference is made. If you take care when you first notice something that needs to change, no police should be necessary.

* You are trusted as a phan to have good judgments and to keep Erik as well as everyone around you safe. Do not hesitate to remind Erik that you are ultimately responsible for him, hence you are the dominant party in necessary situations (ex: involving the law, or life/death, or even your mother's jewelry.)

* If you have any questions that books and movies fail to answer, contact Nadir Kahn.

IMPORTANT: have fun! Go easy, but if Erik allows, don't hold back your inner phan.

Deny or accept? Deny or accept? Deny or ...

"Link accept," quips my screenreader. And then, "Enter!"

Oh boy.


	2. Chapter 2

"Lauren! Someone's at the door for you!"

I reluctantly forced myself away from my book (Kay's Phantom-again) and went downstairs to my sister. "Hey. Who's here?"

"Your friend Nadir."

"Oh. ... Hi."

This was real. This had really happened. I'd said yes to the clothes and the music, but I already had instruments and pets. I'd ditched the Punjab and the morphine/DJT-DIDN'T need that craziness. I'd constantly been checking my computer for anything sketchy and cleaned it out like crazy. I'd even gotten paranoid at my phone a little for no reason. And now, there was a dude at our front door.

"Hello. You must be Lauren. I am Nadir Kahn, and this is Erik."

Two dudes at my front door. Nadir was taller than me, and his voice and hands were pleasant. But I wasn't focused on him.

Erik was really tall. His hands were thin indeed; and long fingers. Piano fingers. LarouxChristine was right-cold and skelital ... but surprisingly not too terrifying. At least, I think that part's just me afraid of the unknown ...

"Hello, Lauren," says Erik. Oh, jeez. That voice is sort of supersexy.

"Hi."

"There are still some things we must go over," Nadir said. "And, if at any point, you wish to back out, Erik and I will return home with no hard feelings. Since you did not specify an amount of time, you will not be held to an amount of time."

"Okay ..." I led them over to the couches. "I have a piano there, and a violin-but I'm not sure how good the condition is. I also have an electronic keyboard already. My room has cardboard in the window so no light comes in-most of the house is lit by daylight in the day."

"That's all fine," Nadir said gently.

"What-what else?"

"Erik?" prompted Nadir.

"I'm looking forward to getting to know you, Lauren. I was the one who chose you to visit."

Of course Erik made the choice. But then I heard our back door close, and our two dogs came rushing to the newcomers. The little white terrier barked nonstop until Emmy (my sister) came and litterally chased her away. I called the black lab over to me and had her sit down (although she herself was far from calm.)

"Good girl," I told her.

"Who is this?" Nadir asked as my pup licked his hand happily.

"This is Tandoori. She's my guide dog. But she's only a model citizen with her harness on." I blew a rasberry in Dory's face, and she herumphed happily-and broke away from my hold to stick her nose in Nadir's and Eriks faces. "The little white thing is Valentine."

"So you're dog people?"

"Both dog and cat people. We have three cats too. Two grey ones that like to sleep-only one likes to be petted, but not held. And the third one is a big, fluffy, orange and white-"

"Meow!"

"Dicky! No, Dory. Down. Stay. Dicky-dork! Hi, Dick!" The big Dick had jumped onto our couch and was trying to stretch over all three of us. I played with his active tail, and when I felt for his head, I discovered that Erik's hand was making him purr. Between us, Nadir had tensed up.

"I'm not a cat person," he said uncomfortably.

"Okay. You can take him, Erik, if you want ... he usually doesn't like guys that much, but I think he likes you." Not surprising. Erik gathered up the bundle of fur as I kept Dory from lunging at him. She always wants to play with him and he acts like he hates it, even though he secretly enjoys it.

"Why is his name Dick?" Erik asked.

(A/N true story) "When we found him in a bush and brought him home, my sister was fostering kittens at the time; and so my dad comes home, sees another cat in the house just lounging on the couch in adition to our other two house kitties and the four or five foster kittens locked safely in my sister's room upstairs, and we say, 'Dad, we got a new cat. His name is Sir Richard, because he walks like he's royalty.' And my dad goes, 'Hello, Dick.' He sure doesn't like to use his brain, though. When he's in trouble' you just hear 'Dick! No!' Or when he's being mean, 'Dick, stop being such a dick!' or something like that. You keep our lives exciting, don't you, little Dicky? No, Dory! He doesn't want to play right now."

Erik and Nadir are laughing. "Well," said Erik. "I'd love to see the rest of your house. Nadir, you may stay, or you may leave; your choice. I think I'll at least not be bored by this whole thing."

"I'll hover, I suppose," said Nadir. "Lauren, I will e-mail you with any additional information you might need."

"Thanks, Nadir."

I'd showed Erik my house, and he said he'd happily see about tuning the violin, and even said he could buy it a new bow. He made me play him something on my piano, and offered to tune both my voice and the piano. He was content with my dark room where my keyboard was already living; I was unsure about him sharing my big bed, but he said he "supposed he would have to live with that." Hopefully that will get better with time.

"If I may ask, Lauren, and I mean no offense ... why does Dory not assist you around the house?"

"Ah. I know my house. I go a lot by memmory, and I also use sound and touch. If something is moved a tiny bit out of place, and I run into it or can't find it exactly where I left it, it throws me off a lot. I'll let you know if you're being too cautious or not cautious enough. It's all good."

"Good. I was told that you were a braille reader, but I still wasn't sure of the proper ... etiquette." Aw, shy and polite Erik. Yay.

"No problemo, my friend."

I let Erik stay in my room the rest of that day, and just surfed the web in the open loft we have. After dinner, I did a little more surfing before Emmy told me to go to bed. "You're dog's waiting for you," she said.

There was indeed a happy Dory on my bed. But there was also an Erik. A very quiet, content Erik.

"I apoligize if Dory's a bed hog," I said.

"She's all right," Erik replied.

I hoped very hard that this would go well.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: thanks to The Black Shadowed Starling for being my first reviewer! (Dicky is sitting on the back of my chair as I write and is smacking me in the face with his tail because he wants attention lol.)

The next morning, I listened to Erik's complaints about how both Dory and I had almost pushed him out of bed. "I'm sorry," I said. "She'll sleep in her crate from now on."

I like to be lazy during breaks from college, so I stayed in my room and talked with Erik while Emmy was out and my parents were at work. I put Jackie Evancho on Pandora; Erik didn't complain. Good, that was my hope: a modern artist of a genre that Erik would apreciate-or at least tolerate. I mean, at least he wouldn't scream about horrible vocal techniques or be disgusted by the "modern poetry" of pop music. I wasn't even sure if he'd like the rock-pop stuff I love, like a Rocket to the Moon or the Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Oh well, baby steps. At least he'd probably easily appreciate Enya or Celtic music. But it would take a long time before he'd stay in the vicinity when I'd be listening to the Jonas Brothers, let alone Kesha. (Yeah-I listen to a lot of different musics.)

"Oh, I love this song!" I said as Jackie sang "Reflection" from Mulan. "Disney always has good stuff. They pick good composers. I think one of them's deceased now, though."

"Pity," Erik murmured. "This Jackie has wonderful potential ... perhaps this song is not quite the right range or tone for her voice, though. She would do marvelously at dramatic arias."

Sweet! The man whose story inspired Jackie to sing aproves of her! "Would you believe me if I said she was about fifteen? And that she started singing when she was eight?"

"Well, I suppose she's worked hard sinse she began ... but fifteen? She's fifteen years old in this recording?"

"Come on." I reached for Erik's arm, and tried to pull him off of my bed.

"What? Let go of me, you silly girl!" He yanked his arm away. "'Come on' where, exactly?"

"I'm going to show you her audition for America's Got Tallent. And I would prefer to hang on to you so I know where you are." And so I can have an excuse to touch you-haha, the perks of being blind.

We walked across to the loft where my computer was. I sat down on my excersise ball, and Erik took up one of the rolly chairs. "You should know that I was informed about all your astounding technology before arriving," he said. "I was given information on everything from automobiles to airplanes to computers and cell phones to your culture's ... interesting taste in music and fashion and your slang."

Wow-lucky his brain can absorb lots. "Good." I leaned over to turn on my monitor and pull out my headphones. "I use a screenreader called JAWS, which speaks everything I need to know on the screen. It's in a British accent and I have it talking superfast, so you'll hear that in a second. I use my keyboard," I slid it out in its holder just beneath my desk, "not the mouse. You can use the mouse if you'd like, but I might have to turn off JAWS for that."

"I really would like to see this JAWS," Erik said, sounding amused.

"Okey-dokey." I hit the Windows key, and JAWS said, "Menu: start search edit: (type text in this edit field or press up or down arrow to move through items.)" I pressed the down arrow once. In response, JAWS said, "Internet. (one of three, i.)" I pulled up Google. And then I couldn't resist asking Erik, "What do you think?" This was one of those times I wished that I could see for a split second, just to get his facial expressions. Oh wait-he was wearing a mask.

"Very fascinating! I can only follow if I concentrate, though I do suppose I'll learn to understand it quickly. ... Truly astounding, the measures the world has taken for accessibility."

"Yeah, we've come a long way ... but there's still plenty to go, and plenty of crap thrown around out there. But that story later ... Youtube ... 'Jackie Evancho audition' ... I hope I'm spelling her name right."

I pretended not to notice Jackie's mention of POTO. One rule already unintentionally broken, and a major one at that. But Erik didn't seem to react to that. We finished the video, and then Erik said, "There, in that little bar on the side of the page: she sings 'Think of Me.'"

So we watched that. Hey, the rule had already been broken-just sooner instead of later. And it wasn't explicitly broken by me, either. Besides, I'd specified that I wanted my Erik to have knowledge of many adaptations.

"Amazing," Erik murmured after that video had concluded. "Simply mind-boggling. That little girl was clearly always destined for great things. And to think ... my story, something I thought was a sorry tragedy ... the inspiration for so many ... the things that people have said about me ... much, much later, I am an icon?"

A/N: I always wondered what Erik would think of someone like Jackie Evancho. (Sorry for spelling...too darn lazy to spellcheck!)


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: technical music/vocal stuff here.

Waking up next to somebody is like a jolt to reality for me. I'm used to sleeping alone, obviously, so my first thought is: Did Emmy have a horror movie worthy nightmare and come to sleep in my room? (Both of us sisters are guilty of doing that.) And then, Who am I having a sleepover with? This second thought was on the right track-it leads us to: Oh yeah, Erik. He sticks to his side like I stick to mine. Good thing, I guess, but when am I going to fall asleep with a man and wake up in his arms? Well, not like I have any candidates now, but my life is long ... Erik could totally be that man, though. Wonder if there's a way to speed this process up ... or should I take advantage of the time and get to know this Erik first? I mean, I have a stable mind and wits and reasoning about me, unlike Christine when she first got to know him.

My inner monologue was interupted by a groan from Tandoori's crate. Oh, Dory dog-you and your doggie senses. Erik will probably wake up.

Surprisingly, no.

I got up and pulled Dory out of her crate and out of my room so as not to wake Erik with her excitement in the morning. Dory did her morning business and I did mine, then we ate. After that, I quietly picked out an outfit and jumped into the shower. I brushed my teeth and got dressed. I checked my e-mail and FaceBook, and then went back into my room to put on the headband I'd left on my nightstand.

Erik was still asleep. Wow, lucky break for me.

I went downstairs to watch Netflix on my phone (Hey, it' talks to me and the TV doesnt.) I listened to an episode of Dreamworks' Dragons and was about to start another when I heard a little creek from the staircase. I dismissed it-my house cracks with the temperature changes, mostly the heat.

"There you are!"

"Oh hi, Erik!"

Upon reaching me, he perched on the couch next to me and wrapped his fingers around my forearm, gripping tightly as if anxious that I had left him. "How long have you been awake?"

"Uh, I don't know, couple of hours maybe?"

Erik released my wrist and wrapped an arm around me, holding me there. "I was rather alarmed when I awoke and you were not beside me, like you were last night."

Awww. Maybe I wouldn't have to worry about working hard for Erik to get attached to me after all. "Relax," I said. "I would have woken you up before I left the house-unless you atacked me when you woke up!"

"Oh, please don't!" he moaned. "Don't laugh about the monster!"

Sigh. I'm forgetting who I'm talking to. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm exaggerating. I might atack my sister when she wakes me up by saying that she interupted me from the best dream and that she should get out of my room so I can wake up at my own pace. I'm tempted to 'attack' my alarm by throwing my phone across the room. You know-freak out."

Erik just sighed. "You are dressed. Have you eaten breakfast?"

"Yes. Do you want something? Or do you want to get dressed first?"

"I'll freshen up upstairs."

"Okay. Are you good-do you know where everything is in the bathroom?"

"Yes, I know how to work a shower!" Now, he sounds a little anoyed, like I'm being motherly or something.

I conceal my giggle the best I can. "Okay."

After Erik was ready, I made him a peanut butter sandwich. He insisted on trying it after hearing that I had one. "Butter from peanuts ... interesting." (A/N, have no idea when peanut butter was actually invented, so sorry if that's historically inaccurate.)

"Do you want anything else on it? Honey, chocolate chips, jelly, marshmallow, ..."

"Are all of those options normal?"

"Nope. I like chocolate and marshmallows. But honey and jelly are pretty common."

"I'll have honey, I suppose. You have quite a sweettooth."

"It'll be the death of me, but hey, just gotta balance it all out and eat moderately helthy and then there's not as much guilt."

Erik chuckeled. "Indeed ..."

Erik kept me hydrated and helped me stretch before doing some breathing. I'm an air bender, like my classmate Bailey told me, I reminded myself. I'm like Toff except with air AND earth—breathing and a little echo location. I'm halfway to the avitar! Oh wait, I'm supposed to focus on bending air right now.

"Very good," Erik said. "Let your body naturally expand. Now: from Middle C, do-me-so-me-do, on ha. Show me how high you can reach. ... Very good. Bb5. Now, slide from so to do on zoo, and we'll see how low you can reach. Start on the G above Middle C. ... Aha, very nice-Eb3! Use your breath in your lower range as well ... really wonderful range you have ... Now, you seem comfortable in the soprano range, but have you ever been an alto?"

"I'm a mezzo soprano. I haven't worked on my break because in choir, I'd just use my head voice and then vocal coaches have just worked from that."

"Well, I can certainly find something for you. I've never worked with a voice so light as yours before ... and you are very straight-toned ... no, don't be sad, Lauren. You have presented to me a voice so unique that I have yet to discover how to work with it. This is exciting! Actually, will you allow me to explore a little of your prefered music? That would be a good place to begin."

"Sure! Yeah, totally! You can totally see my music!" I've always been really proud of my collection…the Phantom of the Opera wants to get a peek at my library? BFD.

Erik skimmed my Itunes, and commented that Enya could be a good vocal role model ("Although I would prefer that you have better diction.") I commented that Jackie Evancho's voice seemed too heavy for me, but Erik took down some titles from her album as well as some Il Divo and Andrea Bocelli songs.

"I would really like for you to try some older arias," Erik decided after deleting the playlist he had been working on. "Many of your contemporary classical artists sing as much earlier music as they do later music. As beautiful as showtunes are…arias truly present a technical challenge."

"Well, the magic internet can help." Cue Google.

With Erik's critique, we narrowed it down to:

"Deh Vieni, Non Tardar" by Mozart from "Le Nozze di Figaro"

(teasing lovesong; opportunity to smooth out vocal break)

"Batti, batti" by Mozart from "Don Giovanni"

(pretend I'm pacifying a jealous Erik! doable trills, big breath control)

"Una donna a quindici anni" Mozart, "Cosi Fan Ttute"

(urge to succumb to something; sing light, big range, breath control)

"These seem really intense," I said. "Are you sure I can sing these? I mean, it takes me forever even to get my sound out in warmups."

"We'll work our way there-just until you receive your repertoire for next semester. What songs did your voice coach at the university have you singing?"

"You know about that?"

"Of course. I was given information on you before I agreed to visit. I know your school, your academic plan, your hobbies, your career goals-which I find no less than fascinating!"

"Yeah ... sometimes I wish I could skip to grad school and get down to learning about music therapy, but I still have some semesters left of my undergrad."

"Yes ... well, what songs have you performed?"

I listed them off. "I'm doing Nel Cor Piu Non Mi Sento early in VDR when I go back. You know what that is, right?"

"We'll work on that one, then. And yes, I know what Vocal Divisional Recital is. I also know that you don't take inflexible teachers well ... especially one this past term."

The one that didn't want to follow accommodations set by disability resources. "Oh-He was, um, difficult to work with." Until DR kicked his butt. Mwahahaha.

"What did you think of that?" Erik sounded amused. "What did an independent woman of the 21st century think of that?"

He wanted to see something different than the compliant 1800's girl? Well. "To keep it PG-13, he can go suck a lemon. But replace the last word with-oh-something else."

Erik laughed out loud, and man did it sound good! (Okay, I'm attracted to fun laughs. But pretty much everyone has a fun laugh when it's genuine.)

A/N: The big opera singers have heavier voices and are really good at projecting over an orchestra; they also have a great deal of vibrato-there voice vibrates (too much vibrato can make the voice sound wobbly). My voice is a choir voice—light and straight-toned, which means lighter, not-as-effortless resonance and zero vibrato. I'd hear those big opera voices and feel a little small. Erik says that's exciting, though! Yay!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: The chapters so far were daydreamt up and written over a summer break; fall semester, my muse left me. But that Xmas break, it returned, and stayed until the next fall. This chapter is the first of that Xmas break. Also, chapters here on out are loosely based off/inspired by IRL events unless otherwise stated.

"Se Tu M'ami" Pergolessi

"The Last Rose of Summer" (key of E flat) Thomas Moore

"Du Ring an Meinem Finger" Schubert

"Plaisir D'amour" Martini

Those were the song's selected for next semester's voice repertoire. I'd gotten good grades for this past semester, and some former neighbors (very great friends) visited us from Texas. (Erik stayed with Nadir then because we were already cramming for beds.) My guide dog took a trip to the vet for a checkup, and we visited lots of relatives because both me and my sister were home for break.

Erik was, to my family's knowledge, a fellow college student studying abroad from France. (They didn't know that he stayed nights in my room, though.)

Erik hadn't come back from Nadir's. It had been several days since our friends had left, and I'd texted Nadir when they'd gone, so where was Erik?

I sent Nadir another text: "When is Erik coming back?"

Nadir replied quickly, saying Erik would be back later that night. Good.

My sister was happy to be home ... but also happy that we could be together again. ... Happy that she could make sure that I was doing what I was supposed to. We love each other to death, but she has had the job of my unofficial caretaker and sighted guide since before we could walk. And as I gain more independence, her dominance gets more anoying and I push away. I almost thought I should just go over to Nadir's. It's not like I'd be abandoning family time; Emmy spends time with her friends often enough, and she and her friends all have boyfriends ...

Where the crap are you, Erik?

We'd just gotten back from Dairy Queen, and it had been raining and cloudy all day here in a place where rain is rare. The only bad thing about tonight was that Emmy was happy with her friends-her and two other girls and all three had boyfriends.

I went up to my room to get ready for bed. Sometimes I wish I could just grab a boyfriend online. I want a good human relationship so bad, but I'm the shyest when it comes to actually getting out there, and I'm scared of getting hurt. Yeah, yeah, 'tis better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all. But I can't even take those first steps ... I kind of suck.

I opened my bedroom door.

"Hello, my darling," cooed a voice.

"Erik?" I asked stupidly as I approached my bed. Was he doing that manipulative trance thing with his voice?

A hand with spidery fingers gently enveloped my own. I felt the skinny arm, and then that hand brought mine to touch the masked face.

"Erik!" I practically screamed and tackled him on my bed in a hug. "I missed you! Everyone else has friends and boyfriends to spend time with and I missed you!"

"You haven't forgotten about Erik?"

Trance broken, mind clear. There was a note of happy disbelief in his voice, and I felt his arms hesitantly encircle me and then tighten abruptly when I repeated, "I missed you!"

"Noone has ever missed Erik before!" he whispered.

My own words were muffled, because my face was buried in his shoulder. "Well, I did! My sister has so many friends and everyone has a boyfriend ... or it seems like it ... and I've just had my books. But now you're back! And I have my new songs from Dr. Saunders, so we can keep singing together, and I won't be alone anymore!"

"Erik thought you were no longer interested ... he stayed with his friend Nadir and they talked about going back to their world ... because Lauren seemed to be so fascinated with her books and her modern-day musical artists. Erik thought ... but now ..."

"No, don't go back! I love you too much. Your phangirl says stay. Please, pretty please? You can even come back to school with me and get alone time while I'm in class and help me with homework, and then we can do whatever you want. ... I mean, if you want to stay. ... I bet you miss your own world and your own time and your own culture ... and you can only take so much of a phangirl ... especially one who's being all flaky or whatever."

"Hush. Hush, you silly girl! Of course Erik will stay. Your Erik wouldn't ever abandon you ... not when you have given him what he could only dream about in his own world. ... Not when you have shown Erik kindness." Erik settled us down in bed and pulled the blankets over us, still tightly holding me. "Sleep now, my dear. Tomorrow, we shall continue your lessons. ... Your Erik will make sure you are never alone again."

Mission "Get Erik Clingy" accomplished. Time to start getting him integrated into my society ... shouldn't be too hard. But for now, sleep. I'm sleeping in the arms of an Erik! My Erik.

"Does this mean I can call you _my Erik now?" I joked.

"Yes, you can. ... May I-may your Erik-kiss you goodnight?" (A/N: I couldn't resist-sorry.)

And there go the phangirl feels. "Yeah," I squeaked. He'd have to take off the mask ... "Don't care if the mask is on at all, actually. A blind plus."

I had to loosen my grip around Erik's thin body to free his arms so that he could take off his "face". Darn. But after a minute, I felt cold lips on my cheek. And then Erik's breath caught.

"Lauren does not die after Erik has kissed her."

Ignoring the voice in my head screaming "Don't do it," I reached my hands out to touch his face. Whoa ... feels really weird. Erik remained still as a statue as I explored. My finger almost went right into his nose (I muttered a quick and embarrassed "Sorry") and I touched as gingerly as I could, because his skin almost felt gone in places. I just pretended like I was reading worn out braille. "I'm not hurting you, am I?" And then, my fingers were wet. "Oh, Erik, are you crying? Don't cry! I just wanted to understand ... I can stop." I took my hands away. "I just wanted to see you."

I settled back down to go to sleep, and felt Erik's lips on my forehead. "You are truly an angel ... you are my angel. Sleep now, my angel."

A/N: Every phanfic needs a fluffy cheesey chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

There's a power outage. And it's right in the middle of looking up next semester's voice rep! But on the plus side, I woke up this morning in Erik's arms. It was like cuddling a skeleton with a heartbeat, but it was sweet and not creepy. I could tell through his touch that his intentions were pure, and if something insane did happen, I had the character-sitting contract to stop an Erik-sized drama. No shattered chandeliers here!

Erik wouldn't talk to the rest of my family that much, so he just ran around the house with me trying out all the lights-nothing. And then we called SRP and they said that about a four-mile area of our city was experiencing a massive power outage and we could be out for a couple of hours.

I went into my dark bedroom where Erik was hiding and played with the tuning on my ukulele for a little bit. Then I ate a tuna melt that Mom helped me make on our gas grill. Then I came back to my room and Erik could happily hold me again.

"Lauren," Mom called. "Help me take down the Xmas decorations."

"Okay," I called back. "Erik, let me up."

"Why?" he pouted. "I haven't seen you since you rose this morning. I let you get clean and dress, and then your sister came barging in and gave me this strange look-"

"What kind of look?"

"A look like she wondered why I was here. Your family knows, don't they?"

"Yeah. They know the cover story. My sister's just weirdly overprotective and, um, wants to make sure I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing instead of slacking off or daydreaming or something." I like living in my own head a little too much.

"Well ..." Did that tone mean a red flag or not?

"Lauren?" Mom calls again.

"I'll be quick," I told Erik, and scrambled back downstairs.

I texted Nadir about Erik's feelings toward my sister. "One notification," announced my phone a few minutes later. "One unread message. Nadir Kahn: Erik is just being posessive and protective of you. He really did want to go back to our world despite my atempts to convince him to stay ... but when you contacted me and asked when he would be back after your friends left, he was in quite a happy mood. He is glad to be wanted and the fact that you like singing lessons is a bonus. My advice regarding your sister: try to keep them apart. Erik can be irrational and if your sister can be dominating as you both say, it could become ugly if they are together."

Wow-long freaking text.

"So," I told Erik, "Once I'm back at college and you're with me, Emmy won't be lurking around anymore."

"Good," Erik replied cooly. "I will not stand to have her be your dictator."

I was really glad I didn't let him bring his Punjab lasso to my world.

Erik had distracted himself from wanting to get my sister off my back by composing and exploring his cell phone. He said it would be good if he knew how to work it before I was in classes again.

I'd realized that Erik had been distant recently before my friends came, and he was still distant now when the family was home-or more spicifically when my sister was home. He did not want to see our interactions. He loved when I was by myself, because then he could hold me and talk with me (and kiss me) all he wanted. Even if I was doing something that required just one hand, Erik was at least holding my other hand.

The first time he had held my hand had been the first morning he was back, when I took Dory out to do business and eat breakfast. I needed one hand to hold onto her collar, so Erik tried to walk with an arm around my shoulders. But Dory was too hyper!

"Here," I said, grabbing his hand. "Let's just hold hands for now."

Erik didn't unknot our fingers until I said I had to pee.

I put away my little ukulele. "I'm so bored! I'm afraid to read more because if my little pac mate dies, then I can't charge it, and everything in our society requires freaking power and there's none!"

"Well, I come from a time where electricity was too new to be a necesity. Why don't I play for you?"

"Ooh! Yes! Would you?"

"Of course, but we would have to use your piano downstairs ..."

"Okay, so-" I pulled Erik by the hand, but he wouldn't get off my bed. "Dude, you're worse than my dog on the couch. Why don't you want to go downstairs? I'm pretty sure Emmy's out with Jaren or something, and Mom and Dad will still be happy to hear you-geese! Geeses!" I heard them honking and flying over the house! This always happens on winter break.

Erik chuckled at me. "You're rather adorable when you get distracted."

"Come on," I said, and walked out of my room.

"Fine." He rose, but before he could grab me, I ran away down the stairs. Erik let out an unhappy noise as he chased after me.

"Hah! I got you out of my room!" I yeled in triumph.

Erik caught up to me and gently and timidly took my hand again. "Won't you let your Erik touch you?"

"Well, yes, but you wouldn't leave my room, so I used myself as bait. See? You're out in the daylight now! ... Where's the piano bench?"

Erik sighed. "You're a very clever little woman. And the bench was moved. No doubt by your ridiculous sister."

"Hey, go easy. We took the ornaments off the tree yesterday and she just forgot to put it back."

"Inconsiderate," Erik muttered. "She addresses you like you are no more capable of fending for yourself than a child, scolds you like a pet owner over the smallest things, and now she doesn't even respect your need for organization?"

"I'm used to it, and you're being a little dramatic. SHE means well, her love's just tough. So, what would you like to play?" But then I heard beeps from our kitchen appliances and our heating start back up. "Wait-OMG! The power's back!"

But Erik pinned me against him with his arms. "No, Lauren. Don't go back to that computer yet. You said we could play."

So we messed around with some classical pieces for a while, and Erik eventually let me go back to my computer, mumbling something about "absurd, lazy members of generation X being too dependent on their fancy technology."

Yeah, we're aware we have a problem. But we call it something that sounds progressive rather than regressive like societal evolution to feel better about it.

A/N: A pac mate is a little notetaking device that writes in braille and talks. I used it to take lecture notes in college and mostly use it to draft stories now, and I transfer the files to my computer when I'm ready to post something.


	7. Chapter 7

From under my pillow, my phone vibrated and announced that it was 6:00 in the morning, and then Ramin Karimloo's LND Phantom started singing, "Ten long years ..."

Living a mere facade of life, I thought, as I reached under my pillow without pulling the phone out and tapped snews. (Did I spell that right?) The alarm went off every nine minutes, and after an hour and a half of snoozing had passed, Erik sat up and pulled me with him.

"Get up, sleepyhead. I'll help you pack your things."

I fed Dory. I took my launddry out of the drier. I scrambled around cramming all of my crap into bags. I brushed my teeth and got dressed and ate breakfast. Nobody gave Erik a second glance-he was going back up to campus with me anyway as part of the cover story. His things were already in the car, and so he helped me make sure I had everything. I even grabbgh some extra T-shirts and dresses to take up there for when the weather decided to stop being freezing.

Erik sat with me while I finished my leftover pasta from my favorite restaurant from the night before. (We have an Oregano's within walking distance from our house!)

"As chaotic as this is," Erik said, "you've remained so calm. Thank God I'm not running around like a headless chicken ... I'd be much less agreeable."

"Mmmmm." I couldn't say anything else, really; I was shoving in the beautifully buttered and garlicked pasta and chicken as fast as I could.

When we were finally ready to head out, I said goodbye to the kitties and Valentine and to my dad, who would be staying home. My sister and mom walked outside with me and Erik, and then came another dilemma.

"Lauren, back or front?" Emmy asked.

"Front would be better for Dory ..." but I kind of wanted to be in the back. It was more comfortable. "Where will Erik go?"

"Oh, Erik doesn't mind," Erik replied serenely.

In the end, we decided that Dory would be in the very back of our giant car, Erik and I would be in the middle seats, and Emmy would ride shotgun.

"I'm pretty sure that Boston Legal is in there," Mom said once we were on the road. I assumed she was pointing to the center consel where we kept DVD'S to watch on long trips thanks to our car's DVD player. This was the car chosen for its rode trip qualities, after all: space for suitcases and snacks and ski gear, and a DVD player, and awesome speakers.

I heard Emmy shift in her seat, but then Erik said, "I've got it."

"Oh ... you know how to work it?" Emmy asked. Why did she ask that? She knew Erik as a 21st century man-surely our car's older DVD player wouldn't be too hard. But _did Erik know how to work it? Would this be it? What would happen if our cover was blown? Would Nadir and Erik go back to their world just like that?

"Yes, I do," Erik said. And then he threw his whispered voice into my ear. "That celular phone is very useful, especially for its internet access."

Whew. So glad I picked a character with big brains!

Erik and I held hands across the center consel between our seats as we listened through several episodes. Erik was able to follow the show and even laughed at some of the political jokes (dang, I guess he did learn a lot from surfing the web.) He only let me hear his comments, though. I guess he was still nervous about showing his true feelings around anyone else. I wonder why he attached to me and trusted me so quickly. Maybe Nadir would know.

We made just one stop on the way up-at a really good MacDonalds that Mom had come across on an earlier trip up to my college-and she was right: their fries and coke were freaking heavenly! I got a hot fudge sundae.

Erik, who was sitting next to me and sampling Mom's and Emmy's fries and coke with me, touched my fingers holding the spoon. "May I try some of yours, my angel? Before you swallow every last drop?"

"Sure. Is there still hot fudge left? You have to taste that."

"Yes-that brown stuff? Yes." Erik carefully took a spoonful, and gave a satisfactory grunt that almost sounded orgasmic.

"You've passed the point of no return," I said. "Congrats. You've tasted an ice cream sundae. Can I have it back now? ... Erik, give me it!" I'm laughing, but I'm serious at the same time. Don't make it disappear just so you can keep it, dude!

I heard a smirk in Eriks voice as he said, "Say please."

"Please?"

We ended up sharing the sundae.

Back in the car, I was feeling the lack of sleep. I yawned.

Unfortunately, my sister saw. "Lauren! What did we talk about? Yawn properly! Cover your mouth all the way, no open fingers, and don't open your jaw so wide! I don't want to see your uvula! And it scrunches your face. You don't look atractive."

I hate feeling ashamed.

After Emmy turned away from me to face forward, Erik gently stroked my cheek and threw a whisper into my ear again. "Only a few more hours, my darling, and then you will be free of her."

When at last we arrived, Mom asked for my keys to my apartment before we were out of the car. "I really need to pee!"

Erik helped me to get Dory and my suitcases inside, and followed me into my room. He helped Mom measure Dori's crate for a bed, and then helped me reorganize my closet and unpack my clothes. Emmy and Mom went shopping for food (I'd run out just before I'd gone home for Xmas.)

Emmy yelled from the kitchen, "Lauren! Erik! We're back! Come see what we got for you, Lauren."

Erik heaved a huge sigh. "I'll be so glad when they are gone and we can be alone. Your roommates seem nice enough to leave us alone when we request it."

"Yeah ... almost there. So close. I can't wait either, to tell you the truth." I went into the kitchen and let Emmy show me where all my food was set up, and after mom and sister reorganized my bathroom for me (grrrr) they left.

"Finally! Hey, Erik, they're gone. It's just us now!"

Erik, who had been moody and irritable all afternoon, switched emotions instantaneously. With an exclamation of delight, he wrapped his arms around me and held on tight. "You belong to me now, not to your sister," he said.

"Okay, Mr. Posessive. But I'm hungry."

A/N: Fanfiction is where I escape from reality. Fanfiction is where I can exaggerate and tweak anything I want to let out some emotion or act out some fantasy. The yawn sitch with my sister was real; however, it's not like she's a tyrant or anything. Growing up together means patches of discord as well as harmony. It just happened to be discord the day I wrote this chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: This chappy was made up…needed to escape school and invent crap that was more than just going to lectures and doing homework. Totally real scenarios, though.

It's been a monotonous, creativity-destroying semester. Spring break has come and gone, and I'm still waiting for some writer's unblock (if you'll allow me a little 4th wall break here.) I did e-mail Nadir about Erik's particular attachment to me, and he just reiterated what he had texted me about my sister-that Erik had found something in me worth holding onto and so would feercely protect me for that. Well, I for sure wasn't complaining about that! I loved seeing an excited Erik when I came home from classes. Thankfully, he was perfectly happy being a little hermit in my room for now. He had his electronics and so he could communicate with Nadir, research anything he wanted to learn about, and even shop via the character-sitters site (technically being fictional, he couldn't use something like amazon. Creating any kind of documented existence in my world would make it more difficult for him to go back to his own. It could be made impossible if you're not careful.)

Erik would leave me alone when I needed my introvert recharging time, but I'm pretty sure he just watched me all the time, no matter what I was doing. When I had had enough of textbook chapters and homework assignments, I'd go to Youtube or listen to Pandora. I didn't care really if Erik was looking over my shoulder-I couldn't expect an Erik not to snoop. Besides, I had nothing shameful to hide.

Erik told me every time I opened my music history book that he would love to read it sometime, and so I told him the ISBN number and stuff and he bought a copy. He also offered to help me with my homework for that class if ever I needed it. He was baffled by 20th century atonal music but loved learning about it and composing with it, and we scratched our heads together when I had a particularly weird music theory assignment. At least this was the last semester of theory and ear training, and then my final year. I was so close to a Bachelor degree! Erik also helped me with my voice and choir rep. He loved the diversity in the choir songs and enjoyed the composers of my voice songs.

There were only minor bumps in the road with regards to Erik's-Erikness.

I'd text Erik if I ever planned to stay on campus unexpectedly between classes to meet with a professor or do some volunteer work for my philanthropy club. But one particular day, I'd stayed to quickly finish something up for a class and Tandoori just had to have a poop attack on the way home-not to mention one little dog distraction. I usually get home for my lunch break at 11:15, but it was almost 11:40 when I walked in the door. Erik had started bombarding me with texts around 11:25 or so.

"messages from Erik ..."

11:25, "Where are you?"

11:27, "Are you still walking home? You don't have to answer if you're almost home ... I know how unsafe it is to text message while traveling."

11:35, "Lauren, please answer me. I'm simply getting worried, my dear girl ... I do hope you're all right."

I didn't look at any of them, of course, because I was hurrying home. My beeping phone was starting to anoy me, though, especially since it likes to beep again if I don't read a text within two minutes of it being received.

The door to my apartment had barely slammed shut when Erik was hugging me around my messenger bag of electronics and my excitable dog, who was trying to join in the hug with a little too much enthusiasm.

"Thank God you're safe," Erik whispered. He ushered us into our room and took off all of my gear; but he let me take off Tandoori's, as a huge guide dog rule is that nobody but the handler can touch the dog's harness.

I could now look at my phone, and it made me giggle. I thought I could feel me blushing, but I wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry," said Erik, sounding sheepish. "I was just ... so worried ... when you weren't home on time ... and you didn't let me know where you were."

"It's okay, I understand," I told him. (I had been making a big effort to stay punctual for Erik reasons.) "I stayed after five minutes to do a quick quiz verbally with a professor and then on the way home, Dori got diarrhoea and she also got distracted by another puppy. But I'm home now and don't have to leave untill two, and then I'm done with classes till Monday." (No class on Friday's this semester for me!)

"Oh, all right," said Erik, this time sounding forlorn.

"Oh, come on. You get me for three straight days-minus church Sunday, unless you want to come with. Father Matt's always happy when people bring guests. You don't even have to be Catholic; one time me and a Morman friend went to each other's churches because we were both strong in our faiths and we wanted to share our Sundays for a day."

Erik didn't say anything in answer to that. I made myself a tuna quesadilla (think a tuna melt but in the microwave and on a tortilla.) Erik kept an arm around my waist the entire time and sat in the chair next to me while I ate.

"I think you should come to church with me," I said. "Or at least come with me when I go out with a friend-too bad that hasn't happened yet." (Thanks, jacked up schedules.) And then I knew how to get him to come out. "I sing in church. You could hear me sing in the choir if you come."

"You're tempting me," he murmured.

"Everyone's really friendly there," I singsonged.

I finished a little blurb of homework before I went to my last class of the day. Erik gave me a hug, a plea to get home on time this time, and a kiss on the forehead before I left.

I persuaded Erik to come to church with me that Sunday, and he loved it.

A week later, I was meeting my friend and fellow music major to help her with a piano project-an accompanying project. I would sing, and she would have to accompany me, and her professor would grade her on it. At least I wasn't the one being graded on performance this time. That would come soon enough, though, when I performed in front of all other voice students and all the vocal coaches—also known as VDR. Oi.

I left early on a Friday (something I haven't done in awhile) to meet my friend at her piano class, and then got breakfast afterward with some classmates. One of them offered to walk back home with me, and I said sure because I hadn't seen him in forever and even walking home is a chance to catch up. Erik hadn't been awake when I'd left, and it was almost 11. Oh well. He'd known I'd be going to help a friend this morning.

I hugged my classmate goodbye at the door and went inside to find a quiet Erik sitting on my bed.

"Hey," I said.

"Close the door, please," he said after I'd put everything down. Oh crap. He doesn't sound happy.

I obediently closed the door and sat on the bed next to Erik. He planted his bony hands on my shoulders and turned me to face him with a claw-like grip.

He spoke very slowly and very low-very dangerous. "You were gone when I awoke."

"I told you," I said calmly. "I was helping a friend with a school project." Remain calm, I told myself. Stay grounded when he's using his voice like a weapon.

"But then," Erik continued, (crap, I'm a little scared!), "You came home with a boy."

Oh! That's what the problem is. "He's gay," I said. "He doesn't go for girls. It's all good there."

"Have you any right," Erik said in a measured voice, "to go frolicking around with other men? ... Not if you are mine!"

"You don't own me." I technically own you! I hold you accountable, it's in the freaking contract!

"If I find you have been out with another 'friend' without my permission-"

"Please don't finish that sentence. You make one wrong move, your gone! And I'm the one who has to clean up your mess! You don't technically exist, so the consequences of your actions go to me, and I want to finish my education without having jailtime!"

Being blunt is the only way I know how to handle confrontation like that. (A/N, too bad I don't always feel as bold IRL…)

I grabbed my phone and locked myself in the bathroom to shower. Before pulling up Pandora, I texted Nadir about Erik's and my little dispute and asked Nadir to remind Erik about the contract by which we were all bound. The hot water calmed me down. I'd take some alone time for both our sakes and then gently talk to Erik. Maybe. If we were both cooled down enough.

I took my time drying off and changing. I wanted to delay being with Erik as much as possible right now. I was afraid of a bigger explosion-not that that episode was technically even an explosion considering Erik. But hopefully Nadir had helped him regain his sanity a little. Nadir had replied to me, saying that he had passed on the reminder to Erik and that I should be the one to talk to him and fix this. Urg-hope I do this right. As I finished the last bit of business, and was trying to think of something else to do besides wait and metaphorically stare at the door, there was a knock on sed door.

"Lauren?" Erik's voice sounded small and pleading. "Please, angel, open-open the door."

Well, better sooner than later. "Beware the cloud of steam," I called before I obliged. I went straight into my room and sat down expectantly on my bed. Erik joined me, but did not touch me. "Do you understand the contract you signed before you came to my world?" I asked softly but firmly.

"Yes."

"Do you understand the consequences of your actions in this world?" Different laws, man, different circumstances.

"Yes."

"Good." I dropped the hardness. "And do you understand that you're the only one that I love and that I won't leave you?" Cheesey, but Erik was dramatic anyway, so that should get through.

"Yes." Now he was whispering.

"Come here," I said, pulling him into a hug. "It's okay. I still love you. Don't cry, don't cry."

"Just don't leave ... don't leave your Erik."

"Not gonna happen. Promise."

We cuddled for a couple of hours before Dory whined to go do her business again. "I have an essay to write too," I said. "I should probably start that. It's due next week. It's not that big, but it's my one big writing assignment for this class."

"For what class?" Erik asked, sounding pouty. He probably didn't want to give me up yet.

"Music history. I have to analyze an art song."

"May I help?" he asked, sounding eager now.

"Yeah. I'll need it, I think."

"And the faster you finish it, the more time we'll have!"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: changed my friend's name, but very much my real day…

I got a C on the stupid paper for music history. That's bothering me more than it should. All day, though, things have just been bad: my favorite sandals broke, Tandoori and I weren't thinking as a team, and Mother Nature's monthly surprise happened. I never can predict that, and I also can't predict how much pain I'll be in until the pain's here. I was not awake enough to think ahead before my 8 AM class, so I didn't eat or grab a pain pill. I got through classes, but by the end and after I got some food, I decided walking the 15 minutes to get home was too much to ask. I'd told Erik I'd be staying to practice anyway, so I thought I'd just lay on a bench in the hallway and text him if the pain didn't go away fast enough.

One good thing was that Erik had gotten a little better as far as posessiveness goes. He was trusting me again, and gradually he had become a sort of cute kind of clingy. He would back off immediately when I told him it was too much, and the bumps in the road were getting smaller. I wondered what he would say when I got home, though. How crappy did I look?

My accompanist met me so we could practice, but I told her there was no way I was singing if I couldn't walk. "Can I use you for your car?" I asked. "I can't walk home."

"I have an appointment in a little bit, but yeah, I think I could do that. I wish I had something to give you for the pain. You have stuff at home, right?"

"Yeah," I said, thinking of bananas. (They seriously work, even on the monster cramps, as long as you can stomach one.)

I texted Erik that I was coming home and that we would reschedule practice, and then my phone rang.

"Hi, Erik."

"Are you all right? Why are you whispering?" Weird greeting.

"I'm fine. Just lady pains. Friend's giving me a ride home."

"Are you sure? If you're in as much pain as you sound, you shouldn't be moving at all, I think. You shouldn't even be standing, let alone walking."

How the crap does he know what I'm going through? I have no darn choice. "I have to get home and sleep, Erik. Jessie's got me."

"No ... Nadir and I will come get you."

"And carry me home?"

"We have a car for situations such as this. But if we didn't have one, I would carry you all the way home."

"How are you so adorable?" Oops-didn't mean to say that out loud.

Jessie laughed and the other end of the phone was silent. I told Jessie what Erik had said, and she giggled again and' said, "Tell him we're good. He doesn't need to do that."

"I really think we're okay, Erik."

"How far can you walk?"

"Far enough to get to a car."

"I'm not happy with that answer."

"Well, too freaking bad." I was getting out of breath. "I gotta go. See you when I get home." I hung up. "Erik's a very worried friend," I told Jess.

"Just a friend?" she joked.

Well, I can't say I'm sort of dating a fictional character via contract. "I think so? He's one of those adorable gentleman, you know?"

"Yeah, suuure. Well, I can pull up to the curb so we don't have to walk more."

"Thank you so much." I hadn't told Erik that walking down a couple of hallways meant taking several rests. I also didn't tell him that I had to wait to stand up the first time. This is what I hate about my body: I don't know the extent of cramp pain until it climaxes, and I wasn't sure if this pain had peaked yet (oh how I hoped it had). And we still had a distance to walk, not counting the walk from the apartment's parking lot to my door (which wasn't really long at all, but everything''s a stretch when you're in pain.)

No, don't think about the pain, I told myself. Use the Placebo effect ... I'm not in any pain. I can totally walk. My bed's not that far away. I can make it for sure.

Nope, can't do it. Go away, nausea, go away! Sitting hurts. Standing and walking hurts more and less at the same time. What is comfort? I know not of comfort right now. Screw you, Mother Nature.

Jessie went out to get the car, but came back in sooner than I thought. "Hey. So ..."

"That was quick," I said.

"Um, your friend didn't listen," Jessie said.

"What?"

But then I heard Erik's voice. "I can take her, Jessica. Thank you very much for your help and concern, but I'm going to the same place."

I gave in with few weak protests. I was too tired to argue. Jessie eventually gave in too, and was reassured by the both of us before she left with a "really hope you feel better" to me and a thanks to Erik.

"Did Nadir come too?"

"No. Just me. We both can drive." (Of course you can.) "But please tell me why in God's name you thought you could handle this. You look like death, you stupid girl!" Erik sounded both furious and extremely worried.

"I never know how bad it'll be. Seriously. If I feel good, I go to class. And I was feeling good this morning. I had already done classes and eaten, and this all hit about 20 minutes ago." I was panting now. Too much talking.

"All right." Erik took my stuff to his car first and then came back for me. I started to stand, but he pushed me back down with a firm "No."

I groaned loudly.

"Shhh," he said, sitting down next to me.

"Why are you mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you, Lauren," Erik said gently, putting an arm around me. "But you are clearly in no state to walk on your own."

"How else am I gonna get to the car?"

Without a word, Erik picked me up and carried me there, Dory following us. When we got home, Erik carried me straight to my bed and tucked me in. "Can you drink something for me?"

"Maybe a little." I honestly wasn't sure. "Can't eat a banana yet."

"If you had any more classes today, you would not be going. I'll get you some water. Your dog's in her crate, and your things are back on your desk." Erik brought a cup to my lips a minute later and I swallowed a little. I shifted and tried to get comfortable, but I kept changing positions. "Ow!"

"Shhh. Try to sleep, my darling. Your Erik will take care of you. Your Erik will take care of everything. Sleep now."

"Can't. Hurts."

Erik started singing, "Ne'er forsake me, here remain. Share with me my dark domain."

It worked.

I slept for a couple of hours, then ate a banana, and happily read away the afternoon. Erik kept me hydrated and eating healthy (although he didn't get in the way of my chocolate craving, which was smart.) And after I finished my homework, I watched my audio-described Phantom of the opera. ("_Your Erik is sitting right next to you, and you would rather listen to Gerik?" "Meh!")

A/N: The song Erik sings is from Ken Hill's POTO musical. Eriks always make bad days better for phangirls!


	10. Chapter 10

Surprisingly, the end of the semester went down smoothly. I got through finals and made it through another semester without any C's! Moast of the summer was a lot of laying around and enjoying the freedom of not having anything to do. I mostly binge-watched YouTubes and "Dragons: Race to the Edge" because it finally had audio description!

Erik and I both had our introvert times, but there were also those times when at least one of us would get clingy. My sister had her own group of friends, but my friends all had crazy busy jobs and though I thought they were flaky it was really just there unpredictable work schedules. Erik was always there when I felt lonely. I felt bad when I "ignored" Erik to enjoy the internet, but he said that it was allright as long as he could be close to me. We both knew that no matter what, every night would be cuddle time. And when there was nobody else in the house, we could fill the whole place with music instead of just filling our headphones.

One night, though, we both experienced the power of a good playlist.

I'd only recently learned what sleep paralysis was, but it fit the description of quite a few of my nightmares: hallucinations of frightening things coming to get me in my bed, and me being unable to move a muscle. It's when you're half-awake, but the paralysis part of REM (the brain stem stopping you from acting out your dreams) is still turned on. And then when I wake up all the way, I think, "Where'd the nightmare go? It's going to jump out at me again, isn't it?" Not cool ... so not cool. I read somewhere that it's caused by stress. I _was worried about what I would do after graduating, and seeing that horror movie a couple days previously probably didn't help, but one night in particular was full of sleep paralysis. I know what it is now and can recognize it, so it's not quite as scary, but it's still very freaky. I didn't even know what was after me that night or what was preventing me from moving in the dream; it could have been something that wasn't scary at all, but I was scared. Really scared. I stayed awake for a long time each time I woke up completely-two or three times total in one night? That's a little concerning.

How the crap was I supposed to get through the night? Wait, morning now-three in the morning. WHY? Make it go away. Help me to relax, Lord. Normally I would toss and turn for a while, but I didn't want to disturb Erik. I pressed closer to him-another body meant comfort. And when Erik draped an arm around me like he would always do when we were half asleep, I did relax a little. Just a little.

"Lauren?" Erik whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Erik pulled me even closer, seeming anxious. "I ... why are you awake?"

"Bad dream. Stupid sleep paralysis!"

Erik let out a breath and seemed to relax a little. "Me too."

"How do you deal with it?" I had a couple methods, but Erik had worse nightmares than me, I knew.

"I stop sleeping for the night. ... But holding you seems to be working."

Phangirl likey. "I usually say a little prayer and-wait! I have my bedtime playlist!"

"May we try that?"

"Yeah." I shuffled the playlist and put the phone under the pillows as the intro to "Like I Am" by Rascal Flats started. Two or three songs in, we both were asleep, still as close together as we could get.

A couple of hours later, my phone had played the hour-long playlist through and died. I plugged it in but didn't get up. I like the cozy, still-sleepy feeling of laying in bed in the morning.

When Dory-dog knew for sure that I was awake, she rattled the rattly bars of her big crate and started making Dory noises. "Mmmmmmmm, arrroo, ooooph."

"Fine," I groaned. "Erik, let me up."

"No."

"But Dory wants out to pee and I'm hot!"

Emmy wasn't awake yet and Mom and Dad were both at work, so Erik walked around the house practically stuck to me. When we were eating breakfast, Erik brought up the bedtime playlist. "That was the perfect antidote, Lauren! I may just have to figure something like that out for my own home ... the power of music. I think I know everything about music, but every day I learn something new. And you-you show me that. I'm a little jealous of you, actually, being so intimate with music."

"And you're not intimate with it?" I was incredulous. If I'm just intimate with music, the Phantom of the Opera must be its full-time lover or something.

Erik chuckled. "I like to think I am. ... But even so, there's just a special something about music ... it does not discriminate and it knows just how to touch you in the right way, even when you're not expecting it. And you're open to that ... its power is simply obvious to you."

"I love you," I said casually as we cleaned up the dishes. "You know that, right? You're cooler than cool."

Erik took my hands and touched his thin, flesh-colored mask with them. "You know what else I can do with this mask on?"

He could clearly eat with it on, which was good. "Uh ...what?"

Erik gently and patiently tilted my face upwards and leaned down. And then he kissed me and waited for me to respond, which I did. We pulled away just before I heard my sister's bedroom door open upstairs.

"I love you too," Erik whispered.

A/N: Audio description equals voiceover narration of all the visuals of a movie/tv episode, from setting to costume to actions to facial expressions ... one of my friends called them "audio books on steroids" once hahaha

The next two semesters were constant homework-the crunchiest crammiest year of college I ever had. Never again, please! At least that was the end of school. So the continuity of this story is now kaput. Maybe some random one-shots, but no more linear connected chapters. So here comes that little favor that many authors with writer's block ask for: ideas? Please? Other characters popping up? Certain scenarios you'd like to see? Parody of a scene or meme or something? You no respond, I no continue. Even if it's fine the way it is, please tell me!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I hope this chapter was worth the wait. I think I worked out how to fit an overwhelming yet rewarding schoolyear in here. I had an outline, and then I started writing, and this chapter just took off on its own. Any real-world friends: you'll recognize my reference to some familiar happenings/places; please respect my desire to keep it vague here.

It was midterms. Midterms my last year of college. With the biggest and most immaculate choir concert I've ever done in my life luming a few weeks away: our Xmas concert, complete with decorations all over the ballroom and dinner for the audience while they watched the performances. Huge. Preparing on and off all semester, even recording sessions on top of mass rehearsals. It wasn't common to take homework and fool yourself into thinking you could get some final exam studying done in between sets on performance night. After years in a row of this, I say I get used to it and I learn that homework is impossible surrounded by my fellow nerdy choir peeps, but finals mean you try every opportunity you've got to cram.

That was not now, though. I had a couple of weeks. But I still had so much crap to do! I was practically living in the library for the first time in my college career and praying when I wasn't doing hw. Thank God there was a café in the library. Research. Essay drafts. Online quizzes. In-classroom exams. Lecture notes. And more research and revision of essays.

Where's time to think and a fragment of a social life? Oh right: college ate it all!

I tried hard to spend time with Erik, but it became more and more difficult. Eventually, the only time I really spent with him was when I got into bed to sleep, and we'd just talk and cuddle a little. Around this midterm time, I got an unsettling email from the character-sitters:

Dear Renny,

We take great care to monitor the relationship between character and fan. The relationship as well as the contract are strengthened as the bond between character and fan grows stronger. It has come to our attention that your character has been neglected for several weeks. After receiving feedback from your character as well as their allies, and given your current situation, we believe it would be in the best interest of everyone involved if your contract was terminated. Once your situation can be considered supportive of such a relationship again, we encourage you to reapply.

Thank you,

The Character Sitting Team

I had finished the bigger chunks of homework in time for the weekend. But instead of trecking home from the library playing upbeat pop songs in my head, I walked home on auto pilot like every other week day. I got home to find Erik on my bed like usual.

Now that I thought about it, he had actually been acting a little sluggish lately, but hadn't said anything directly and when I brought it up, he'd tell me that he would take care of it and to "focus on that diploma."

"Erik?" My voice sounded like it didn't know I'd left the library. I methodically got my dog undressed and put all my electronics and crap down and soon I was in bare feet and next to Erik on my bed. "I don't have to touch any studies till tomorrow, so the rest of the day today is for you. And it's only 7. And I don't care when I wake up tomorrow, so we can stay—I can stay up as long as you want."

Erik rolled over toward me. He pulled me closer to him and I felt him shivering. He felt weirdly thinner, like he was becoming even more like a skeleton. The apartment had the heat cranked up because outside was threatening to blizzard, and I was almost sweating after awhile, but Erik was freezing. Body heat warmed him a little, but I was still majorly worried.

"Erik, are you okay?"

"No…my darling…I know that your studies are important to you…Erik can feel himself growing weaker as Lauren can not think of him…no, it's not your fault, angel Lauren…it is simply your reality…Erik is not strong enough to stay here with you much longer…unless—"

I kissed him to shut him up. I needed to straighten this out. I needed to understand whatever was happening. "I think we need to talk to Nadir."

"Okay. But…just hold your Erik for a few minutes? Erik feels stronger even now…"

God, what was I doing to him? He said it wasn't my fault, but I still felt super guilty.

"Erik, what did you tell them?"

"I want to come back! I'll let you finish your studies, because they are important, and then I want to come back! I don't want to leave you, my dear."

"But will they let you?"

"You are the holder of the contract. You make that decision."

Oh, erik, what did you do?

Nadir gently told me about how he and Erik had discussed ways for Erik to come back stronger so that he could stay with me when life got crazy like it was doing right now. I felt numb, though. The academic workload had me thinking like a detached researcher, and the introvert was suffocating…but if I got through this and past graduation, I'd be free. I tried hard to focus on what my characters were telling me, but I couldn't get my heart into it. Erik noticed.

"Darling, all you have to do is what the people tell you to do."

"Can I just put you on hold?"

"No"

Why weren't they telling me their plan? Well, to avoid me getting in trouble, they said. I must act as though I have no knowledge of them plotting, so they did not tell me if they had a plan at all. They implied it, though.

"Who is the other ally?" I demanded suddenly. "The email said 'allies'."

"We—we don't know," Nadir said wearily. "It's someone from our world, but we don't know who it is. Whoever they are, they have influence in the phandom. But we are not giving up. Both Erik and I like it here too much. We will go back to our world and allow you to finish your schooling with no distractions, and then you can reapply."

I looked into reapplying. If I reapplied, it'd get an Erik with a clean slate; the character's experience is erased upon return to their world; no contact allowed between fan and character after separation; character can not enter world without fan's consent/reapplication.

The disbelieving numbness continued as the next weeks went by and Erik and Nadir prepared to return to their universe. They'd leave when I left for winter break, in an effort to make the departure easier on me.

I remember Erik's final words to me: "Remember, Eriks don't like to follow all the rules. I'll be back, sweet girl." A kiss on my nose, and a hand brushing across the back of my neck. I was wearing my Phantom Mask necklace that I got when I went to see POTO live.

When I got home for the last time after graduation, I assumed I'd find it when I unpacked my stuff. I also wondered what rules Erik would not-quite-obey. For the first time, I was thankful I signed a contract with an Erik.

Erik would never forget his wonderful experience, from beginning to end…

Nadir had told him about his "story" in this other universe in an atempt to cheer him up one day. He had laughed bitterly at the pleasure (and profit!) caused by his suffering. He had asked Nadir humorlessly and sarcastically what more there was to this thing, and eventually after combing through the many adaptations…he had come across phans. Naturally, his thirst for knowledge led him to research everything from phan forums to phanfiction, and eventually he came to pity the phans, identify with some of them, and...he did not even know how, but he came to nurse a soft spot for them. He started out sucking the life out of material by those who "shipped" himself with Christine, though later he repeled them, for they were like a lethal drug. He started out as well loathing those few who liked Raoul and even "shipped" the boy and his angel! And himself and Raoul? Were those serious? He was a bit bewildered at the attempts at pairing himself with Meg...not that they weren't convincing in their own way, but Erik just couldn't see it...or at least, this Erik couldn't see it. That was the other thing: so many Eriks in so many little sub-universes of so many adaptations and phanfictions.

As the Character-Sitting was revealed, Erik learned how each Phantom had a phan: some phans were in it for the romance, some were in it for the psychology, some for the Gothic, some for a particular actor or singer, etc, etc. There were an infinite number of fans, and each fan was a link to an Erik, so there were an infinite number of possible Eriks, really.

But this Erik belonged to Lauren, and was completely unashamed of the love he had for his phangirl. After his experiences with her in her world…he would not let her go without a fight! And Nadir would help. Nadir was Erik's only ally in this. He remained at Erik's side throughout the whole process, doing what he thought was best, and supporting Erik's pursuit of a phangirl in the end! Erik never would have thought this possible! But the only thing he was certain of with the Persian anyway was that the man was an anigma—a very beloved anigma.

After graduation, it's weird not having school anymore. All of my underclassmen friends from college went back there and I was stuck out in the real world trying to understand how to find a job…intimidating seems too weak a word to describe that. But the good news was that it was almost Halloween! Ish. Okay, it's basically the beginning of October, but in my family, Halloween is second-best to Xmas: decorations out the wazoo, trick-or-treaters, scary movies and music, and the one day of the year where you can be totally not you and or totally morbid and creepy and it's socially acceptable! I'd been jamming out to Halloween Party radio on Pandora while I got ready for the day. Tonight, I had church choir practice—yay!

I couldn't live without choir. I needed music in my life, and in high school, choir was the little bubble where everything was safe and peaceful and I just floated in music. I was a mermaid in an ocean of soundwaves. And when we turned all the lights off and each sang to a little corner…I've never experienced music on such a personal and intimate level as I hav in the dark. I stuck with choir academically and in church all throughout college, and now that I had no more school, church choir was my little bubble.

She's home from church, and now she sits in her dark bedroom reading. Erik watches his Lauren as she stops reading just as he is reaching the statue of Apolo.

Oh, how Erik wishes he could tell her! What must she be thinking right now? 'All that progress…' or maybe, 'I suppose Erik belongs in his universe and I in mine…'

Or, (Erik dares to hope!) 'who took him away from me?'

Perhaps you are wondering how Erik can still know of his phangirl and how he can watch her in her own universe? Well, dear reader, do you remember what Erik said in dear Ms. Kaysen's novel about making things disappear? These were his exact words to his unfortunate mother: "I can make anything disappear if I want to—even a house!" Well, this wasn't a house, but it may as well have been just that big—it was an enormous task, you see: Erik hid something rather significant from the character-sitting inspectors.

He took her Phantom Mask necklace. That necklace helped him not to forget his phangirl. He plays the part when she reads a book or watches a movie, but he can deviate from cannon when she is not looking. And since she has many Phantom media and literature across all of her devices, her Erik is never far from her.

"The Dicky tail!" She has reached towards the back of her chair and plays with the fluffy cat's tail hanging there while she sits in her family room. When she goes back to her computer, Dicky taps her arm with his tail, as if teasing her and asking her to continue the attention.

Erik's own Ayesha has been clingy as well. Perhaps Erik can take her with him when he returns to his Lauren. He's returned to the house on the lake, thinking he'd let Christine and Raoul have their privacy on the roof…then Christine will come down to him the next night and tell him no…then Erik will let her run off with young M. Chagny. Or perhaps she will just run off after she sings…either way, Erik can be alone to plan his travels back to his phangirl.

Poor impressionable Christine had just gone along with Raoul and Victorian society the way she had been raised. Erik supposed he knew it was best for them to have each other all along, but could never admit it until he found a phangirl. Christine preferred dreams to the point of distorting reality; and when Raoul came along to shatter that illusion, in the end, he save both Christine and Erik from what surely would have been absolute destruction. Raoul is the best for Christine…for her character shaped by their time and place. Christine is fragile and needs someone from the black-and-white fairytales that her poor father would tell her. Christine needs Raoul, the perfect man she was taught to want.

And Erik needs..Erik needs his Lauren! His 21st-century Lauren, who lives so differently, who lives in a world far less concerned with prejudice and status…in certain aspects, anyway. Even if Erik goes back to her and people there throw their shiny, sharp words at him, Lauren will help him be strong. Lauren doesn't want Erik to build her a fairytale (although Erik would happily do so); she just wants to give Erik a chance to have a friend.

So the least Erik can do is give her that same unconditional love as well. This is why he must return…somehow. He does not want her to be alone. He sees her praying about what unknown lies ahead of her; sees her retreat happily to her room after a draining day; sees her by herself at home while her family is at work, filling the house with her music, hoping she too will soon be working; sees her curl up tight at night when the sounds of the house settling distort and frighten her. She turns to music for comfort, for celebration, for peace, for support…for so many things.

Erik misses her so!

The following night, Erik waited for Christine on the bank of the lake. When she entered, with her key to the Rue Scribe side, he beckoned her to follow him with one fluid gesture and soon they were inside his house.

"You sang beautifully tonight, my dear," he told her sincerely. "A grand farewell performance."

"Erik, there is…something I must discuss with you." Christine seemed incredibly timid and anxious. Erik didn't expect much different, but instinct told him it was not her answer to his proposal or his exterior calm that was troubling her…she knew something that he had tried to hide. What was it now?

"What is it?" Erik asked, already fighting desperately to keep his composure. Strictly based on Kay as of right now, he could not ignore the strong Laroux influences.

But Christine said nothing.

So Erik pulled out the broken chain. "Here, child," he said. "I've kept this for you. I know you want to be with your young Viscount."

He wasn't sure what else to say, so he placed the chain with her crucifix and engagement ring in her little hand. But then Christine burst out with a terrible observation…one Erik thought he could keep secret…so foolish!

"Erik, you wear a chain around your own neck as well. You've worn it all along…and before I part from you, I must tell you that I know why you wear it."

Erik looked down at the silver chain around his own neck…a chain from which dangled a charm of fake glass diamonds…in the shape of a half mask.

If Christine had known the reason why he wears this…

"You were the other 'ally', weren't you?"

"I simply can not understand how you can so easily cater to her, Erik! Our world needs its title character—"

"Our world is stagnant. It can pause itself for an eternity if it so chooses." Erik turned away, to his Ayesha, to keep his calm. And by God, was it ever difficult at that moment!

"And I need my Angel of Music. Carlotta is running rampant, and I am nothing without you! Raoul can not give me the intoxication of music that you can. You alone can make me truly sore on that stage the way my father dreamed for me. I need you, Erik. We fit."

Talking took great effort. "I am truly sorry, Christine. I have moved on. You should do the same." Betrayal…betrayal never feels good, and now an Erik has been betrayed and hurt by a Christine.

"Erik, the music…"

"The music can come from anywhere, child. You have been singing the way I wanted for you…now comes a time when you get to shape your own song. When you do that, you will sore higher than you have ever sored." There. Erik can at least leave her with the means to further her career. How can you still care about someone after they have hurt you? No matter…he will be out of here soon, and back with his phangirl.

"But the dreams…"

"I cannot use dreams to distort your reality anymore, Christine. That illusion is unhealthy for the both of us. You belong with Raoul, who can give you what you have been raised to expect in a man, and I-I simply was not meant for your society, Child. I am happy with my Lauren-happier than an Erik has ever been!"

"But Erik—she's a phangirl! Oh, how low you've sunk!"

Oh no. Pity. But also…jealousy? "Is that it? Do you feel threatened by phangirls, Christine?" Erik was amused now.

"She does not live a proper life. That is not her fault, I know, but she comes from such a scandalous time! The woman has no shame, Erik, and I'm truly, terribly sorry to see you resort to such means. And she's blind—disabled—crippled!"

Oh…Erik is seeing red now. "You naïve, shallow, selfish little girl! You have no idea the kindness…the acceptance…the guidance…the happiness Lauren has shown me! Erik protects and defends those he loves…if Christine is a threat to Lauren, so be it! Go now, Miss Daae. Run off to your brave suitor before Erik catches you! Run far away." " Far away…and when everyone is far away, Erik and Nadir can find a loophole in that little contract.

She wanted him back there with her…he could feel it!

It's like I can almost feel the Erik that I know when I read Kay again…

I just got home from a job interview. Maybe I won't be sitting around doing nothing much longer. I turned on my POTO Original Motion Picture station on Pandora. I heard a violin play two-note chords: B major, F-sharp major first inversion, E major. (A/N sorry if those aren't possible doublestops.) And then a voice: The guy was a tenor, but had a deep resonant lower range—he could easily be a baritone. His voice was smooth and flowing like water, but strong and powerful and gentle in all the right places.

"When I was younger, I saw my mother cry and curse at the wind.

"She broke her own heart and I watched as she tried to reassemble it.

"And later in life, a girl saw my face and she prayed to forget.

"And that was the day that I promised: I'd never sing of love if it does not exist.

"Darling, you are the only exception. (X4)

"True that I felt somewhere deep in my soul that love never lasts.

"So I would go find other ways to make it alone and keep a straight face.

"And I've always lived like this, keeping uncomfortable distance.

"Because up until now, I've sworn to myself that I should take the loneliness, because monsters shouldn't have such love to give.

"But, darling, you are the only exception. (X4)

"And though I'm stuck in my reality, well, I won't

"Forget that you've shown me just who I could become.

"So I'll be there in the morning when you wake up.

"To be your neighbor, and your friend, and please, your love. Oh."

"You are the only exception. (X IDK how many times) And I'm on my way to believing."

"Current track artist name: Erik Carriere. Current track name: 'You Are the Only Exception, originally by Paramore." My phone is talking in an Irish accent today.

"C'mere, Dory! Time to go to work," I said. It was Saturday. The weather was cooler, so we all decided to walk down the couple blocks to get dinner at one of the resturaunts in the little plaza. Dory gets a walk and everyone else gets to drink since nobody's driving. (Not me, cuz both members of a guide dog team have to be alert in order for the team to function properly. No matter…I had plenty of peanut butter cup beer in the fridge at home.)

Dory finally came to her leash and harness when she saw that I had food rewards. Little kibbals in a pouch on my right hip—I'd reward her when she reached a target along the route successfully like a curb or a door. I had Tandoori all suited up and we'd all just left the house and were walking towards the corner when I heard something happening by the empty house on that corner of our street. There were some words spoken in French, and then an indignant meow.

"Oh, a kitten!" my mom cooed.

"Moooom." My sister and I were just as excited, but hey, it's great to take the opportunity to playfully scold your own mother.

We were level with the house now. "Hello," said a voice. "My name is Etienne, and this is my wife, Madeline. She doesn't speak too much English yet."

"Hi!" We all greeted back.

My parents introduced themselves, and my sister and I said hi, and I mentioned my puppy—she sure was acting like a happy puppy now…there was a kitty and she just wanted to meet it! But she was in harness.

"Sorry," said a new voice. "My cat's actually at work too." The garage door closed soon after, and the meows didn't continue. I guessed that pair of cat and human had headed back into the house…but that voice almost made me squeal. It sounded freakishly like the Erik in my head.

"That's Madeleine's son, Erik," Etienne said. "He has some anxiety issues, and the cat is trained to detect when he is distressed and calm him down."

Madeleine, Etienne, and…Erik!

Ho…ly…crap.

A/N: I do not own the Paramore song..just tweaked some lyrics.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Oh how I wish there really was a cite called Character-Sitting in real life. Oh how I also wish I had an exciting neighbor who acted like an Erik move in…close to Halloween. Ah well. This is why I shall fanfiction! (Yes, I just used that word as a verb.)

Some notes: The only service cat I ever met was for someone who had PTSD, and I'm vaguely familiar with what trained anxiety awareness dogs do, so forgive me if my description of Ayesha's job is a little shaky/inaccurate. This chapter was written really quickly, so hopefully you all can enjoy it while I'm still watching Halloween movies and pigging out on candy. I couldn't write because life picked up for awhile, but I hope to keep going with this story. I really do!

Okay, on to the chapter.

I googled the character-sitting cite just to see if I could find it again. It was completely gone…vanished into thin air. So much for reapplying. And now I'd have to deal with a guy who sounded like Erik, but have no Erik with me here. I had Eriks in the books and movie I owned and on Youtube and Fanfiction, but that was it.

I put on my POTO Original Motion Picture station on Pandora to pass time and wait for my sister and mom to be ready to unpack the boxes from the attic: Halloween decorations!

On came the 04 movie version of "All I Ask of You." This was the first Phantom song I'd ever heard: it was just another song in my rep for piano lessons; one of the songs I'd play in front of someone from the program that judged whether I could move to the next level of piano. I was in fourth grade. The arrangement was simple, but that song even out of context convinced me that Christine and Raoul (though I didn't know his name at the time) should go together.

Flash forward to high school and our choir performed the song "Masquerade" as a choral union (all five ensembles, all 250 students.) We all stood in the isles of the auditorium at the end of a concert and sang the song—actually, we mumbled because there were so many words. Still, that was exciting. By then, I'd heard of Phantom several times, but musicals were hard for my parents to narrate without pausing the movie so as not to talk over the songs that I wanted to hear. We didn't own the movie, and commercial breaks on TV made continuity even more difficult, and so I just never saw it…until college.

My roommate and I were looking through a neighbor's movies to unwind on a Friday night, she spotted that 2004 Phantom DVD, and the second I mentioned I'd never seen it, she grabbed it and called, "We got our pick! Thanks! We'll bring it back tomorrow!"

And after I saw that, I just wanted to hug Erik and poke Christine. I read Laroux and Kay, I eventually got to listen to various movie/TV/radio versions on Youtube over the next three years, and even did a project on the potential mental disorders that Erik might have and how and why he would grow up different today—one A I had too much fun working towards.

My POTO nostalgia was cut short by my mom calling us downstairs. Good thing, too, I thought. Hocus Pocus and decorating! And a distraction from the sadder thoughts about losing my character…for real, who was the other so-called ally? I tried not to think about that. I might as well just write a fanfiction about it for how real it was to my world. There was no actual POTO Erik here. Erik was fictional and I wasn't. Time to live in my own world.

Erik sighed as he held the Phantom charm necklace between his hands. The charm swung merrily back and forth, and the light that played off of it taunted Ayesha, who enthusiastically pounced about trying to catch the little rainbows. After awhile, Erik tossed her a tiny mouse toy and stood gracefully from his bed to place the beloved necklace back into its box.

After Christine had fled his house that night, Erik sat for a long time at the pipe organ. Ayesha stayed beside him, purring reassuringly and giving him comforting nudges. When Nadir had come down to help Erik hunt for loopholes in the contract, a spectacular discovery was made! When Erik wore this phangirl's necklace while looking through the information about the various phantom worlds, he saw more than Nadir did…he saw what he soon found to be called headcannons. His phangirl's own headcannons and fanfictional worlds and what iffs.

He saw her thoughts while reading Laroux and Kay, saw her brainstorming little ideas bouncing off of one line of dialogue or description, saw her melding and tweaking different phantoms to create her own Erik inside her head; felt her excitement when she read particular fanfictions and her amusement when she read others, felt her happiness and awe when she saw POTO live with friends, felt her ecstasy at hearing particular songs. And he knew all of her phantom dreams. He had access to other aspects of her as well…any thought or memory, really, but the Phantom-related happenings were the strongest of course.

Erik rifled through her fanfiction ideas until he found the one that he could fit perfectly into her own world: Erik remains living with his mother and stepfather, and moves to America.

That would work. Erik could tolerate his mother if his Lauren was just up the street. Besides, the fanfiction toned down the dramatics and superstition…what with the 21st century and all. Erik in this world would have had access to therapy and education and anti-bullying programs…and child protective services if need be, but luckily things hadn't escalated that far…thanks, Lauren.

Now, Erik was an introvert with a mother who placed far too much investment on presentation. She did indeed fear others' reaction to Erik, so she rarely allowed him to spend time out with her. She was cold towards him as she was in the 1800s, but when Dr. Ettienne Barye came into the picture, he sought out behavioral therapy and discipline for Erik and even fashioned him a normal-looking mask. As long as Erik washed both his faces regularly when he went out so that his real face could breathe and his mask would stay free of bacteria, he could go out like a normal little boy.

But when Lauren's fanfiction picked up, Erik was a young man and staying with his family because he could never bring himself to leave his spoiled mother. Madeline Carriere was demanding and stubborn and vane and you just didn't get in her way lest she have a tantrum. Her tantrums were terrible things; when Erik saw those, he vowed he'd never sink so low. Well, he almost kept that vow. Every little boy has tantrums…Erik was simply taught how to manage his emotions, and his mother never learned that. Therapy, discipline, music…and one other way.

After confiding in Nadir about wanting to keep Ayesha with him, Nadir suggested a survice cat. "Lauren's guide dog is a service dog," he had said. "Perhaps there are service cats?"

And so now, Ayesha was with him here. She learned how to detect changes in Erik's behavior—heavy breathing, accelerated heartrate, agitation, etc. and would calm him down by purring or nudging, and in more severe cases, leaping onto his chest or meowing at others to back away.

The only hole in the plan at first had been the last name. Erik had ultimately chosen Carriere because his phangirl was rather fond of the Erik Carrieres for there kindness and support towards the Christines. He hoped to keep some of those qualities if he took the last name of Carriere. In the end, Erik happily accepted and absorbed his phangirl's influences to become his Lauren's perfect Erik…he could finally be somebody's perfect!

His phone dinged: a text message. Erik frowned, irritated that someone was interrupting his time alone…his time for planning how exactly to see Lauren again. He'd decided to date her the way men wooed women in this era, and that way he could hopefully win her family as well. But first he had to meet them and ask her…and that was the frightening part. And then he had to tell her who he really was: He would return her necklace on the date and explain everything.

But for now, the text. Oh, it was from dear Madmoiselle Perrault! She had stayed in France, but had been Erik's dearest friend—besides Nadir. Porr Nadir…they couldn't find a way to fit him into this little story yet. No matter…Erik's only condition besides being close to Nadir once he could come was that he had Rookeeya and Reezer with him. That man deserved more time with his family out of reach of that horrible shah.

The text was in French of course: "Happy Halloween, Erik!" and a ghost emogee.

Erik grinned and reciprocated the sentiment. Halloween—what a grand time of year to be the Phantom of the Opera! And what a time to reenter a beloved phangirl's life!

"I had to wait 300 years for a virgin to light a candle."

Dang, I love that movie! Now that I've watched it with family and decorations are all over the house…this is Halloween! (I like quoting movies, okay? I don't own Hocus Pocus or the Nightmare Before Xmas—I just like quoting them.) We still had a couple of hours, though—it was All Hallows Eve Eve. It was in the evening of All Hallows Eve Eve. I was playing with my Tandoori.

"Doooo-weeee!" I'm at one end of the living room, hands out shielding me, while my big black ball of energy is at the other. She makes this half-huff half-growl noise, but doesn't move.

So I make a duck noise with my mouth and my hand.

And that gets her going! She's hopping/running around, growling and waggling her entire butt. And I'm cooing things in this squeaky voice like "Dorydog!" and "Who da woof? You da woof!" in a voice that would make Minny Mouse cringe while trying to dodge Dory. Once she starts going, she can't stop without really crashing into something…I don't want to be the something she knocks over.

Soon, VV starts to join the fray, barking and running around Dory, trying to chorale her like the alpha dog she thinks she is. At that point, the two of them together are almost cutting the rug around the ottoman, so I usher them outside to tear up the gravel and grass out there. And ten seconds later, there at the door wanting to come back in. Oh you puppies. Well, one's an old lady dog, but Dory'll be a puppy till she's dead I think.

The dogs finally calmed down…and then there was a knock on the door and they went crazy again. Oh well, so much for a peaceful house. The parents were at work along with the sister, so I could just wait for the person to go away.

But they kept knocking and ringing the doorbell.

So eventually I yelled as loud as I could, "Shut up, dogs!" and then I yelled, "Coming!" and took a deep breath before opening the door. I was nervous about interacting with an unknown person face-to-face, and the pupps weren't being quiet and so were making it worse. Eventually, I got the little dog behind a closed door and the big dog on a leash.

"Sorry," I said.

"You're all right," said…the Erik voice! Oh, crap! "I have my cat here. I'm sorry…she helps me with anxiety, and I, uh, had a question for you…uh—"

The cat made a little half-purr half-meow. The guy sighed heavily like he was trying to relax. He was really tall, I could see.

"Um, what was your question?" I hoped he'd see I was nervous too…maybe that would make him feel better? I hoped.

When he spoke next, he sounded really put together—almost rehearsed. "Tommorrow is Halloween. I don't know anyone and so don't know of any parties, and I don't really want to pass out candy with my mother…she can be a little overbearing…I'm sorry; I'm rambling." He sighed again. "Anyway, I was wondering if you'd like to go out tomorrow, seeing as I don't know much around here and you live here?"

Whoa! Well, I guess I won't be doing the Halloween-movies-and-chill tomorrow night. A date? Was this a date?

"Sure," I found myself saying.

And that's how I was here, on Halloween evening, waiting nervously at my piano. Sitting at the piano calms me down…I'm right next to music and music makes everything better. I'm wearing a silvery grey velvet dress and black open toed shoes. I've decided to leave my dog at home and take my good luck cane. I got a customized cane online: red cane with shiny black decals of music notes and cleffs. I took this cane out when I felt dressy or I needed a confidence boost or when I was performing in a choir concert.

I had given Erik my number and we'd texted about what we wanted to do…both our families had dinner plans for us, so we decided to go out for dessert. I'd told Erik that you'd never have room for dessert when you eat out in the US anyway because you're so full after dinner, so going out just for dessert was a good way to appreciate restaurant desserts.

I heard the knock and I jumped up. My stomach was swirling and burning at the same time; Tandoori was jumping excitedly at the door; VV was yapping and Mom was trying to get her under control; I was holding my cane with a death grip and fidgeting with the silver rose charm at the end of the rubber band that holds it together when it's all folded up, and sweeping it back and forth to hear the roller tip rhythmically slide across the tiles. Stay calm. Be cool.

My mom opened the door and greeted Erik, but I also heard a woman's voice speaking French. Her voice was in a higher register. Her tone was pompous and scarily authoritative. Erik's voice translated warily: Madeline Carriere was here to meet the mother of her son's date for the night as well as get a good look at the girl.

"Lauren? Erik's here," Mom said.

I walked towards the voices and soon Erik's hand had taken mine. This hand felt like the hand I remembered…stop—hult, phangirl.

After a silent minute and some exchanging of heated French between mother and son, the mothers parted ways politely and Erik and I went outside after I said a quick goodbye to my mom. Erik kept hold of my hand.

We went to Oreganoe's because we could walk off our pizzookie there and back and we could look around at the trick-or-treaters. Erik told me his story over dessert, about his family and his life and his hopes for the future, and I told my story. It felt like we were just getting it all out of the way, like it was frivolous-but-socially-important small talk. It was after the food that things got interesting.

"You look very festive tonight with your orange nails and your dark dress," Erik said.

"Thanks."

"You know, there's one thing I can think of that would really go well with what you have on. Not that you don't already look pretty."

I'm blushing as I duck my head. "Thanks. Um, what?"

"This. I'm sorry I took it, but it led me back to you, and now that I am back here with you, you can wear it proudly."

Erik put a necklace around my neck. When I went to explore it…I found a half mask charm.

"Hey! I baught one of these when I went to see—"

"Phantom…with some college friends. Chris Mann was the Phantom. You loved the stereo and the acoustics and the way you could be a real phangirl with your fellows."

"How did you know that?"

Erik got up and sat on my side of the booth. His arm came around me and then the Phantom mask charm was singing: "Ne'er forsake me, here remain…"

"No way."

"It's me, my angel. Your Erik has returned."

I dared to hope. My stomach was full of happy butterflies instead of nervous ones. "No way!"

"Through your necklace, I could see your own thoughts and ideas about my story. I saw your fanfiction ideas that you would play with, so I picked one. And it worked! I'd tolerate my poor mother for a lifetime if it meant you would be close."

I planted my hands on his shoulders, touched his cheeks with my thumbs to understand where his face was, and leaned in to kiss him. "Thank you for breaking the rules."

"What are Eriks for?"

Quick a/n: if you see any plotholes or have questions, please let me know so I can try to work that into future chapters


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: A word of advice to fellow fanfiction authors: keep a dream journal! Write down the dreams you have at night, understand the symbolism, practice lucid dreaming if you can—if you can't, just let the craziness inspire creativity. You never know when you'll have a dream that can make you crank out more fanfiction! This chapter came from a couple different dreams, , but with some tweaking and combining I manage to make it fit in here, so enjoy.

I turned off Pandora and picked up my pac mate to read a book with the song "A Boy Can Dream" by Casey Abrams still running through my head. I'd just opened up a book on music and disability when my phone started to ring. I looked at the caller ID: Erik Carriere.

I answered. "Hello?"

"Hello, my darling."

Hearing my phangirlified Erik's voice over the phone made me want to squeal, but I held it in. "Hi," I said.

"My mother and her husband and I were—well, we were supposed to do something, but they've gone all honeymoon phase and I've had enough. Could you come over?"

"You want to give them a taste of their own medicine?"

I—I really just want to have an excuse to not have to be with them. And—and I want to see you. We're just a couple of houses away, and I haven't seen you in two weeks."

Awww. "Okay."

I don't bring my guide dog to another person's house; it's not a public place and I don't always know if the homeowners are allergic or if their animals are okay with some dog entering the territory. I didn't take a cane or anything, because it was just down the street. I felt a little strange without a mobility aid, but I wasn't sure if I really needed one since there would be a more-than-willing human guide and I was familiar with the layout of the house already.

Madeleine answered the door. "'Ello."

"Is Erik here?" I asked, feeling uncomfortable. I swear I could feel her condescending look. Grrrr.

"I am Madeleine, boyfriend Etienne, son Erik." was her reply.

"May I see Erik?"

Madeleine let out a huff, called in French to Erik somewhere inside, and then grabbed my arm and tugged me inside. I hate it when people just grab me without warning, and so I jumped a little. Jeez, Madeleine probably thinks I'm some weirdo, being blind and hating being touched. Oh how I wish more people understood how startling it was when you were grabbed and steered instead of being asked if you needed help. I could have come in just fine.

Inside the house, a puppy jumped up on me and Madeleine scolded "Sasha!" (Yay, Sasha!) I ignored the dog until she'd calmed down, then I greeted her enthusiastically. Tandoori is about ten times as crazy about new people when she's out of harness, plus she was much bigger and stronger, so Sasha's excitement didn't phase me.

"Maman?" Erik's voice called from somewhere near the tv, which was playing what sounded like a movie (in French though, of course.)

Madeleine's hand clamped down on my arm again (she had let go once I was inside and Sasha had run up). Urgh…I wasn't going to be able to stay here long if she had a death grip on me every time I tried to move. So I touched her fingers on my arm. "It's okay. I got it." Little help here, Erik, please.

Erik said something else in French. Madeleine's manicured and heavily ringed hand dropped my arm as she replied. I could hear the pout on her face. And then her tone of voice changed…sappy sweet as she raised her voice—to call into the next room probably.

A minute later, my hunch was confirmed: A man's voice, Etienne's, answered in French, and then he switched to English. (Finally.) "Ah. Hello. You're Lauren? Erik tells us about you."

Awkward silence. Well, I can fill it this time. I stepped forward and stuck out my hand toward Etienne's voice. "Nice to meet you guys. I met Sasha too. She's sweet…sweet, happy puppy." Talking about puppies makes anyone smile. Ah, ice breakers…really useful sometimes.

Etienne reached forward and shook my hand. "A pleasure," he said.

I felt Erik's arm come around me and he started to speak, "Darling, would you like to go—"

But Etienne (urged by Madeleine it sounded like) continued hastily. "Lauren, we made some cookies earlier…we made a lot. Would you like some?"

Darn…I can't resist homemade cookies. I mean could anyone? "Uh, sure."

Erik walked with me to the kitchen table and soon there was a plate full of cookies in front of me. Were they trying to keep me down there with them? I had a feeling that Madeleine wanted to interrogate me because…because she's Madeleine. Well, I'd let her get a couple questions in and then be done, I supposed, to be polite.

"What kind are they?" I asked.

"Chocolate chip," said Erik and Etienne at the same time.

I laughed at that (jinx). I reached out to the plate and took a cookie from the top of the pile to understand how big it was—looked like they just dumped the whole sheet onto the plate. "Wow. Erik, you could help me eat these, right?"

Erik giggled. "If you'd like." His little giggle made me smile.

I took a bite…crispy. I liked softer cookies, but crispy cookies were good for dunking, so: "Could I have a glass of milk?" Just as I said that, there was a meow from the top of the stairs.

"Oh, Ayesha," Erik sighed. "I forgot…I should feed her before she tries to shred my pillow again. I swear that cat's got OCD." And he got up and I heard him climbing the stairs.

"I'll get you your milk," Etienne said. Soon I heard a full glass being set down by my elbow. I knew I had to be careful: it was towards the edge of the table. Dangerous for me. I finished my first cookie and then tried to calculate how to safely get the milk. I slid my arm straight back from the table. I moved my hand out to the side and found the corner of the table. I trailed along the table to try and find the glass…it was further up than I thought. I inched my hand forward.

"Uh, where is the glass?"

"It's to your right."

Okay. Move hand slowly.

"No. More." Etienne sounded impatient, which made me anxious. I figured he didn't want to look at a blind person's hand to make sure they found their drink. So I moved my hand faster. Mistake.

My fingers found the glass, but before I could get my hand around it, I realized too late that I'd been coming at it too quickly and also—how close to the edge it was: it was literally right on the edge. There was a wet crash.

And so time stood still. Oh, God. I felt that familiar feeling of guilt for "causing a scene" and I was a little upset that it happened because somebody thought they knew how to "handle" a blind person when they clearly didn't (common cause for unnecisary specticals, really).

And there was yelling. Great. Madeleine was probably mad that "I broke" one of her glasses; Etienne was probably frustrated and thought it was my fault; what was Erik thinking?

"I'm…sorry…it was just a little…little close to the edge…" I tried to say, but I was embarrassed and ashamed and my voice was soft and the other two were too busy yelling. Why the heck were they yelling? That didn't help!

And then I heard Erik's voice. He was yelling louder than any of them, and throwing his voice all around the room to be heard and get them to shut up. I'm not sure whether I find angry French amusing or if I was just so embarrassed that I was laughing.

Erik's hand was on my shoulder. "Would you like to meet Ayesha?" he asked me.

"Okay." Anything to get out of there! And kitty therapy sounded like just what I needed.

There was silence as I got up and took Erik's elbow like formal sighted guide and he led me upstairs. I really don't use formal sighted guide much, but I felt I had to look the epitomy of proper blind person until the mom and stepdad were convinced that I wasn't a wrecker or something.

In Erik's room, I could hear Ayesha eating in the adjacent bathroom and an aria playing (from what sounded like) a dang good quality speaker on a desk. He led me around the bed and we sat down…and then I spoke, my voice shaky.

"Idiots! Who does that? Who puts a glass on the edge of the table? Think, people! What—"

"Shhh." Erik pulled me into a hug and held me there. I felt like I was about to cry, but I didn't want to. "It's all right, mon amour. They are idiots." (I tried to laugh. "Etienne thinks he knows everything because he's read medical books, and my mother is just—well, you read dear Miss Kaysen's novel. You did nothing wrong, angel."

"Thanks."

Erik held me for awhile. When I heard a furry thing jump onto the bed and loud purring, Erik gently released me and kissed my forhead. "I think Ayesha knows you're sad. Want to say hello?"

"Yeah." I sat back and went to set my hand on the sheets beside me…only to touch a soft kitty head instead. "Oh."

"Mew."

"Hello, kitty. Hello, Miss Ayesha."

She pawed the bed and rubbed her head against my hand. "Meow."

I stroked her from head to tail, and then I scratched right above her tail. Up into the air went her butt. All cats like that spot for some reason.

Erik giggled again. Yay. "You know about the secret spot! You know, I didn't even have to coax her over to you—she really likes you!"

So we played with Ayesha until she'd had enough and ran to her little cat house. As soon as she was gone, Erik flopped onto the bed and pulled me close and hugged me tightly. "Now I have you all to myself!"

"Ha ha." I hugged him back. His playlist was now going through some softer pop, so we just cuddled and listened for a few songs…until my sister texted me. 'FroYo. You in?' I totally was in. "Want to come with us?" I asked Erik.

But Erik heaved a sad sigh. "I have online classes I have to do, my love. I'm sorry."

I got up and turned toward the door—and then remembered who was downstairs. "Um…"

"I have an idea," Erik said. He went to Ayesha's cathouse and soon came back. "Hold out your arms." After he placed Ayesha in my arms and told me that she liked to be held against your chest, he explained: "She won't even let a vet touch her without me reassuring her, and she almost needs to be suddated if she has to be taken into another room without me. If they see you holding her and her not trying to claw you, that might get it into their tiny brains."

When I put Ayesha down at the door (after walking there without assistance), she meowed and walked around me, rubbing against my legs. "Wow," Etienne said. "She seems to really like you."

"Is she a good judge of character?"

"Well, she only likes people who are kind to her and Erik…people who mean no harm to her and have good hearts…but she never lets anyone but Erik hold her. Ever."

Boom.

A/N: when nothing is happening in real life, things can happen in fanfiction.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I had a mission with this chapter: to rot teeth worse than the sugariest Xmas cookie with all the mushy fluff! I hope this gives you plenty of warm fuzzy feelies for the holidays! Also, one fanfic idea I mention in here I have turned into a story—the Finding Nemo one. If anyone wants to play with the other ideas, go for it because I got nothin at the moment, but let me know so I can read it!

Erik was back from vaycay. I told him that I was sick and he said that he didn't care; he would come to see me anyway.

I was listening to Bruno Mars with my door closed. Someone was at the door, but the song came on as Mom was opening it, so I didn't know who was there. I pushed my phone under my pillow a little to stifle the sound to listen in case Mom called me down. After a minute, I opened my door and plopped on 'my bed. I was playing with the thoughts in my head, throwing around fanfiction ideas: an original bio story for Gill of Finding Nemo, where life in the ocean is not so great and secrets are hidden; the real opera ghost pops in on the current production of POTO just to give the cast some pointers; Dr. Hannibal Lecter becoming the hero and Special Agent Clarice Starling the villain (Silence of the Lambs) because why not?

Someone was climbing the stairs quickly. I thought Emmy was going to sprint into the bathroom, but these footsteps sounded a little heavier-maybe Dad needs something from his office?

But then something flew through my doorway and landed next to me on the bed. I kind of shrieked and yelled, "Holy crap!" And then I was laughing because Erik had pulled me to lay down next to him. Erik's shape was very thin and bony and tall and his arms felt like magnetic snakes when they wrapped around me. He smelled like the airport, but I didn't let go.

"Hi," I said, but that's all I got out before Erik was kissing me. His lips were really thin and dry and I could feel the bible-page-paper thin latex mask right atop the skin. Erik held me really tight and kissed me like he was dying of thirst.

No, seriously-he wouldn't let go of my face.

After a little bit, he finally released my mouth and sighed. "Hello."

"You little weirdo," I said. "So it's been what, like two weeks? What went down in Paris?"

Erik set his forehead against mine and made this little whiny noise. "My mother and her stupid beaux were all over each other! I felt neglected as crap and I couldn't text you and-and I missed you, Lauren. I missed you so much!"

The Carrieres' had been in France and Madeleine wouldn't let Erik get the whatsit app because she didn't want him to spend all his time on his phone. Madeleine got weird about people not paying attention to her when she wanted it, and she wanted everyone to pay attention to her when she was with Dr. Etienne Barrye. Erik usually texted me in secret if his mom was in one of her "spotlight moods" so we could sneak him away. But he'd been in France, with a couple that were basically on another honeymoon with him as the straggler. Apparently, despite the clean record, Madeleine didn't trust Erik alone for more than a week.

I missed Erik too. I tightened my arms around him and pressed us closer as I told him so. "Were they ... enjoying their hotel room?" I asked.

"Oh. I got the heck out of there when they'd do that!" Erik said. "Look, my dear, as much as I'd love to stay with you all evening, I really need to finish some homework. If I just push through these last couple assignments, I can finish my semester early!"

Erik was getting a Bachelor's online in choral education just because.

"So you'd finish your semester in how long?"

"Uh…two months? Only because I already know most of this stuff!"

"I still bet you'll finish your BA in…three years at this rate. You know, that's supposed to take between five and six years for the average person."

"You want Erik to say it, don't you?"

"Nah…I want to say it this one time: My Erik is a genius!"

Now his voice sounded a little small. "Are you proud of your genius Erik, even though you have to keep his big secret?"

We'd agreed that Erik's true origin would never be known to anyone except for the two of us.

"Yes, I am!" I replied. And then we heard Etienne call from downstairs. "You should go unpack and stuff."

"Hmmm. I smell like an airport, don't I? I think I can still feel the airplane on me."

"Go home and sleep. Text me when all the jet lag is gone."

"Oh, all right," Erik sighed as he got up. I walked with him to my front door (just to push him out, really—he was super clingy today).

I chugged Emerge&C and DayQuil and fluids and in a week it was gone. Hah! Take that, common cold/flu/whatever was trying to get me…the point is, I win! And then I got all wrappped up in holiday stuff. Erik had come back just after Thanksgiving. And Erik also had finished his first semester by midDecember; one semester's work done in half the given time. Oh Erik.

The consequence of pushing through all that? Erik surrendered to sickness shortly afterward.

I was bored. Xmas shopping done, tired of the same versions of holiday songs on the common radio station, and the wifi in our house was glitching, so no Pandora or Youtube or fanfiction. Yes, I was an internet-addicted melennial suffering withdrawal-okay, not really, but I was freaking bored!

So I texted Erik. 'hi baby'

Erik 'Hello, my darling. How are you?'

Me 'finally not all Xmas crazy up in here. U?'

Erik 'Well, I'm done with my first semester! But now that I have nothing to do…well, I'm a bit ill.'

Me 'awwww'

Erik 'My mother's going decoration crazy. I did my Xmas shopping online, so I don't have anything else to do…so I'm just enjoying some get well time with Ayesha.'

Me 'that's good, hope you are better soon'

Erik 'I'll be fine.'

Something tells me he's not as fine as he wants me to believe. So I make some Chicken noodle soup and some throat coat tea loaded with honey and pack it all into a bag. I grabbed a tray table my mom always used when I was sick in bed from our hall closet. I also snagged a hot water bottle with a soft furry sleeve I use for cramps, and some Tylenol, and a book in case Erik wanted to sleep and I wanted to stay, and a couple bottles of water, and a coke (coke syrup helps with nausea—for real). And I ended up putting everything except the tray table into a backpack instead of a bag when I realized how much I had. I was determined to show Erik what it was like to be taken care of.

I crated my dog and took a cane down to the corner. Etienne answered the door, as Madeleine was too busy fussing over tree ornaments. I knew the instant I walked in there that crap was everywhere. "Uh, Etienne, could you help me to the stairs? I can take it from there."

"Of course," he said. I took his elbow, he navigated me through the Xmas mess maze, and we stopped at the stairs. "You know it from here?"

"Yup. Twelve stairs straight up, veer slight left, second room on the right."

I entered Erik's room and was greeted by an Ayesha meow and a muffled cough from the bathroom. I made my way over to the desk chair and set down my supplies, and waited.

Ayesha came over and let me pet her. I forgot about who was nearby until I heard a tiny sneeze. It was squeaky, like a mouse. Was that Erik sneezing? OMG…his sneezes were so cute!

After a second I heard the door open and then Erik's tired voice: "Whad are you doig here? I'be sick."

"I know," I said. "I've already gotten sick. I brought you some stuff. Oh, and your sneezes are adorable."

Erik collapsed onto his bed. "What stuff?"

I unpacked my backpack onto the floor. "Food, tea, drinks, medicine, some comfort things."

"Food?" Erik asked like he didn't want to admit how hungry he was. Oh, my heart.

"Chicken noodle soup. And throat coat tea with honey," I added, thinking about how scratchy his voice was.

"Okay."

"You haven't been downstairs at all, have you? Not that I blame you…that's why I brought what I can to you." I set up the tray table across his lap and set the meal on top. I set a bottle of water next to the throat coat. "Drink the water and just sip on the tea…it will keep your throat better longer that way."

"Okay."

I backed away and occupied a needy kittycat while Erik ate. After awhile, I stopped hearing the dishwear tap against each other and I stopped hearing Erik swallowing. "Are you finished?"

"Yeah," he whispered.

I got up and took the tray. I set the half-gone tea on the nightstand table thing and set the dirty dishes next to the chair. "Need anything else right now?"

"I'be full. I'be sleepy."

"Okay. I have a book, so just let me know if you need anything."

I pulled my pac mate out and started to read one of the braille books I downloaded onto it. After a long time, Erik whined. "Lo-ove?"

"Yeah?"

"Cub 'eer."

I put away my books and climbed onto Erik's bed. "What?"

"Lie dowd. Dext to be."

"Okay? What do you need?"

But he just turned right around and cuddle-attacked me with a happy sigh. His arms went around my middle and his head rested on my chest, and his legs got all tangled with mine. I put my arms around him and relaxed. I'd already been sick; cuddling was okay.

"I feel like a tree," I said.

"Why?"

"'cause you're a little monkey!"

Erik giggled.

"You're giggle's really cute. It's like a little kid giggle. Adorable."

He actually kissed me through my T-shirt, too tired I guess to move his head. "You thik everythig your Erik does is adorable. Your Erik thiks everythig you do is sweet."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I just let Erik cling onto me for awhile. But soon he was coughing again. I made to get up, and he whined and clutched me tighter. "Dooo."

"I'm getting you water, silly."

"Kay. Hurry."

I brought over a bottle and after he drank the whole 16 ounces I tossed it toward the tray table. I couldn't get up again: caught in an Erik trap. After quite awhile of cuddle buddy, I squirmed. Erik groaned. But I said, "I have to pee!" So he let me up.

It was exactly 10 days till Xmas! My dreams were fun last night. They made absolutely no sense, but I had a fun time and when I woke up, I still felt their feels. I love when a dream's feelies follow you back to consciousness. Now I could write about them! … Wait, no, I for got—no content, just feels. Blah. Maybe I'll write more fanfic today.

When I was awake enough, I realized two things: one, there was a happy Dory wagging her tail in her crate; two, there was an Erik kneeling next to my bed, holding my left hand, playing with my finger?

"Good morning, my angel," erik half-sang.

"How long have you been sitting there like a creeper?" I asked groggily. I had a nightgown on, but it was loose, so I was wrapping myself in the blankets to cover everything. Erik let go of my hand and took hold of my shoulder, stopping my movements. "Your Erik hasn't been here very long. He was just wondering…would you like to go out? It's a lovely morning, and we could go to a café and get our sugar on."

"That sounds freakin awesome," I said. "Give me about 40 minutes to get ready, though?"

"Of course. I'll wait downstairs for you." He kissed my nose and left the room.

As soon as I got out of bed, Dory burst out of her crate and started jumping around the room. Hyper pup…guess I'll shower after she goes out. I put on my fuzzy cozy Xmas-red bathrobe and walked down to the kitchen.

Erik came up and stroked my sleeve. "Are you cozy? You're all wrapped up like a Christmas present!"

I tripped over a box and ran into a table on my way to the back door, following Dory. "I'm not a very awake present." I let out the dog and made her breakfast and went back up to get ready after she came back in—about 60 seconds later.

We sat at a Starbucks with our survice animals at our chair legs…and I didn't have to have working eyes to know that they were both wishing we'd drop some bacon. Erik had just sat down with our food and our holiday-themed drinks: peppermint mocha for me, toasted white mocha for Erik.

"So, cher, have you got your Christmas shopping done?"

"Almost." I touched the little paper bags, debated between going for the bacon and gooda or the coffee cake, and picked the cake. "Hey, how'd you get into my house, o resourceful Phantom of the Opera? Did you pull an Edward Cullen and sneak in through my windo?"

I heard Erik opening his paper bag with his sandwich (he got the same as me) and chocolate croissant. "Nope. I picked your back door lock after your family left."

I bit into the beautiful warm cinamin coffee cake. "Of course you did."

We chatted about the Christmas craziness, our families taking part in the Christmas craziness, and how much fun it was to watch everyone else run around after we were done running around. After the sandwiches and pastries and coffees had been consumed, I had a surprise for Erik.

"So…I know Christmas is still, like, a week away, but I kind of want to give you your present now because they really want to spend Christmas with you."

"Who are 'they'?" Erik asked around a mouth full of his last bite. Only the POTO would still sound good when speaking with a mouth full of food!

"Well," I said in an announcer/infomercial voice, "only available in fanfiction, I give you: the complete Kahn family!"

And thanks to the conveniency of a lazy and self-aware author, in through the doors came Nadir, Reezer, and Rookeeya Kahn. "Erik!" Nadir called across the room.

I heard Erik get up, but the din of a Starbucks is too loud to listen across rooms, so I'm not sure how they all greeted each other. In some minutes, though, Erik had come back over and then I heard Nadir's voice: "Hello, Lauren! It's nice to finally see you again!" And he gave me that awkward one-armed hug that happens when one person is sitting down.

"Hey, Nadir," I said. I got up to hug him properly. "Welcome to America for real, dude." Dory suddenly inched forwards and I could feel her tugging hard at her leash—there was a distraction right in front of us. "Back it up, crazy girl," I said, but Nadir just laughed.

"That's just Reeza. He's in a wheelchair. Reeza, say hello."

A little boy's hand grabbed mine and I heard a soft and accented "Hello."

"Hi, Reeza," I said.

"And this is my wife, Rookeeya."

"Hello," said a third voice. Rookeeya had a light, happy voice. She was probably really pretty. I thought that was it, but she kept talking. "I can't tell you how thrilled we are that you've let us come here."

"Oh, dear," Nadir sighed. "The fourth wall is cracking."

"Oh, just tear down the wretched thing!" Erik laughed. "I've already done that before, several chapters back, and my Lauren just did before you came in! Where are you all living?"

"Ah…those new apartments not far from you. I think we really should get home though…we need to unpack and settle in…and sleep off the jet lag." Unbeknownst to me, he put air quotes around that last part.

When we were all at home, Erik and I went up to my room and I plopped onto my bed. Erik sat down next to me and sighed. Oh boy…did something happen? Did the POTO slip up? Was the character secret at risk? "Give me your hand…no, your left one."

"Uh…" Why that one?

Erik took a deep breath. "Honestly, I don't know how to say this, so I'll just ramble until it comes out…I had no idea about phans or any of that until you signed up on that website almost two years ago. And then I came here and got to know you…and at first I'd thought that a phan would be annoying and I was sure you would send me back after a time and we both would just go on having forgotten everything…but Erik forgot about going back after he got to really know you, Lauren, and when it seemed he might have to, it was saddening…and then when he was forced back, it felt like his heart was being wrenched back and planted here all at once. And then Erik found out that Christine was the one who brought him back…yes, my darling, it was her. She believes that Erik should not love a soul but her. She detests phangirls for messing with M. Lerroux's story. This particular Christine does not want to let her father's world of dreams go and wants to have Raoul and her Angel of Music all at once. But Erik did come back with your necklace, and wishes to stay here forever with you. And that is why…if Christine ever finds her way here, or if anyone finds out about the characters here, Erik needed something to link us together here…something real that would secure us to each other. And so, if I may destroy the fourth wall: I know a wedding chapter would be a bit much for you, and I know that your real life can not be in your control like your fanfiction, so I ask that you wear this little ring on your little finger, just like mine, and then no matter what happens, no matter how life happens for you, we will always have this fanfiction that will forever be in progress, just in case. And this way, even if our story lies dorment for years and then inspiration suddenly strikes, or whenever the last chapter is written and the story is like a photo album to be looked back upon, nothing and no one can separate us."

As he slipped the ring onto my pinky, all I could do was squeak out an "Okay!" And then we kissed like a cliché Xmas story couple. And then I farted…which made us fall over laughing.

A/N: I want to get this posted…I feel like the end was a little rushed, but there it is. I have done a total of three chapters between two stories in the past week…oy vay! I might need a little break, guys. But whenever I happen to get another chapter done, whether it be next week or next month or next year…or more than that, it will happen. Erik and I promise! Here's to the craziness of life itself! May your holidays be ridiculously happy! (Adam Young reference…tee-hee.)


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I don't say this enough: many thanks and virtual bearhugs to all who follow/favorite/review! Seriously, all your encouragement is what keeps this fic going and helps my self confidence as well. I'm at that lull in life between college and career, and the absence of classes pushing me forward is so much more prominent than I thought it would be…but I found a volunteering position with my favorite organization so hooray! Volunteering gets me off my butt and out of the house…and fanfiction lures me right back. Ah well, the struggle for balance is a forever thing, I suppose. Anyway, endless thank you's to all of you! This chapter is brought to you by my obsession with thunderstorms and my grieving over the fact that there hasn't been a good one over here in forev-ver. And I do not own the song or book or authors mentioned in the chapter.

I put away Dory's new tug toy. Hopefully, she won't shred this one in less than a month. No sooner had I straightened up from the top of her crate than I heard a little thump outside my window. Could it be? There was a little vent outside my bedroom window, and raindrops made a thumping sound when they landed there. And it had been overcast the past two days, which I had enjoyed, but now, was it happening?

So I ran downstairs, excitement and adrenaline running through me. I hopped out the back door and walked out from under the patio. Oh, please, I thought, please let it last this time…please let there be a good show! I stood there, breathing deeply and listening hard. It was breezy and dark overcast and the air was heavy. All good signs, but the weather likes to tease here. There was an ozone smell in the air, but it was faint right now. It was pleasantly cool out, I thought, but then a particularly gusty breeze made the leaves of the huge tree in front of me hiss and made me shiver a little. Okay, it's cold. It's cold enough for goose bumps. I'm going back inside.

Playing with a lab who likes to maintain her title of tug-of-war champ makes her human hungry, so I snatched a little frozen pasta dish from the freezer to make lunch. The kitchen at home was very different than the kitchen in my apartment I had at college, and I was still learning it—not used to certain placements and markers yet, so cooking actuall full meals from scratch by myself didn't happen…yet.

Wow. It's really windy. I'm hopeful for a storm here, Lord. Please pretty please with reverence during mass on top? (I tend to zone out in church sometimes…like we all do.) I threw away my empty, flimsy cardboard container that pretended it was a plate and stuck my head out the back door. I couldn't tell if it was raining over the sound of the wind, but it definitely smelled like it! So I ran back upstairs. At least I'm getting some exercise today. In my room, I listened out my window…thump, thump, thump-ba-dum-dump.

YES! Okay, okay, it's perhaps happening! Yes, I said perhaps happening. The desert likes to trick you with just enough rain to dirty your family's cars and then stop before your mom's plants can get watered. I went back downstairs and opened the window in the family room wider to smell and feel and hear the rain. Rain makes me think of a good book and hot chocolate. We didn't have cocoa in the house at present, and my little machine with the braille books was being a buttface…but I still had fanfiction!

Awhile later, I was jamming out to Enya on Pandora (yes, that can be done). An Adiemus song was playing: Chorale V I. Readers, Youtube that eargasm right now; it's long, but it's amazing. The other members of my family all had plans for tonight, so I was free to blast my music and listen to burping videos on Youtube without head phones and LOL; and I was free to actively fangirl out loud and crazy about whatever struck my fancy. (I could yell or squeal at fanfiction out loud and not look like an idiot.) Staying inside on a Friday night means an introvert can be quiet and content or—in my case-unashamedly insane, and I was lovin it!

The marvelously textured sound of nonsense syllables and percussion and orchestra faded out suddenly, and as my phone vibrated, and just before my Masquerade Music Box ringtone reached my ears, I heard the sound of hard, thick, and fast raindrops on the windows of the house and on the pavers in the yard: it was totally raining! After I hung up, the music would take a break; I had a storm to listen to!

But for now, I checked the caller ID and excitedly answered my cell. "Hey, you! Whatcha doin?"

"I'm home alone," said Erik's soft voice. "There's a storm outside."

"Yeah," I said. "And I hope it—thunder!" A rumble I heard, like a guy with a really deep voice chuckling. "Yay!" I squeaked. "Oh, my thunder. I missed you." I love love love the sound of thunder, and it's even more beautiful when it comes on top of all the other sounds of a storm. It's like the perfect soundtrack for dreaming.

"Ayesha doesn't like thunder, and neither does Erik!" And now my Phantom's voice goes from timid and childlike to agitated and…pouty?

"Don't like being alone when it's stormy? Want to come over?" I asked, trying to calm my excitement from the storm.

"Perhaps," Erik answered in a hard voice. "If Lauren will be true to her Erik and not get distracted by the sound of the thunder!"

I shouldn't have laughed at an upset Erik, but I laughed. "Are you jealous of the thunder? It's just a sound! You're a real person! Thunderstorms don't happen here very often, but I have you all the time. You're way better than thunder!"

More rumbly sounds, louder this time. Dang it: Thunder heard me say that.

Erik's tone of voice didn't change all that much. "Tell me, my dear, what else does the storm do to you? If the loud thunder makes you so very elated, how does the rain make you feel? Does the rain and the wind make you feel very happy? Does the thought of fallen trees and floods make you feel good like the horrible, sky-quaking thunder does?"

Oh, Erik.

"Rain makes me feel like being cozy, like relaxing with a book and a hot drink," I said gently. "I don't have any thing to make hot chocolate, though, and my pac mate isn't working right now. But I totally feel in the mood for a cuddle buddy. Do you want to come over? You can if you want. My family isn't home, so we'd have the house to ourselves."

Call ended.

A text immediately from his angel. "Just let me know if you want to come over. Open invitation. I don't want you to be scared."

Part of Erik wanted to get angry at Lauren for assuming he was weak…but she was very right: he was frightened of the storm. When he had called her just then, he was looking for comfort, like the safety and warm feelings she had given to him when he was ill and she had come to his house with all those things to make him better. And now…now he had ruined it! He wouldn't blame her if she told him to go back to his own time and his own universe…but she didn't tell him to do that.

She didn't tell him to do that! She had not renounced her invitation!

Erik stared at the text message. After a minute, he shut Ayesha in her cat house with all her favorite toys and some food and water and moved her litterbox closer to the little house; and he went downstairs and gathered up some supplies; and then he replied to the text. And not 5 minutes later, Erik was inside her house.

Erik came in with apologies and offers for cuddles and books and hot drinks. "I brought you things for hot chocolate, my angel. And I have some books, and I can read them to you—if you want: I brought Mary Shelly's Frankenstein and a book of Edgar Allan Poe poetry and a book of Shel Silverstein poetry…I know how much you like them." He set everything down on the table, and then dropped to his knees and flung his arms around me and pressed his masked face into my chest. "Do please try to forgive your Erik, angel Lauren. Storms frighten him so, and Erik doesn't like how he feels when he is frightened—"

I cut across him. "I love you, silly. You're forgiven. You brought me hot chocolate and books? Really?" I squeezed him. This night was already awesome, and now here comes my phangirlified Erik to make it perfect. "A thunderstorm and hot chocolate and my Erik reading me books: I'm in heaven!"

Some time later, our bellys were full of hot chocolate and warm fuzzies. Erik placed Silverstein atop Poe and settled back down in our cuccoon of blankets and limbs. "I could turn Silverstein poems into songs," he murmured, tucking my head under his chin. .

"Do it," I said simply. And then I got to listen to my Erik humming under his breath in my dark house, with the thunderstorm in the background, and feeling safe and warm in Erik's arms…I was a really happy phangirl.

One thing I can see really well is light-on-dark contrast. I was just closing my eyes when I heard a quiet thunder—and remembered: I hardly ever had the opportunity to see lightning. But now, here, with no lights on at all…it would be perfect. So I kept my eyes open and sat upright, focusing my brain on looking for flashes. .

Erik jumped to attention when I sat up. "What is it, my darling?"

"Sorry, baby. I just really want to see lightning. I don't see it much. But since it's dark, then maybe I could."

So Erik sat up with me and we watched for lightning. I'm not sure how long it was, but at some point, I did see a flash! A really bright flash, like a camera but huger…like patio light meets camera flash.

I jumped up in the air and squealed like a schoolgirl. "Lightning! I saw lightning! I saw it! I can still see it…YES! And it's not just white, it's bluish! Suck it, doctors: I can see colors!" (ROP patients aren't supposed to see color at all, but I can.)

Erik's laughter rang through the house and he took the opportunity to lift me up, spin me around (which resulted in both of us laughing), and give me a big kiss. "Thank you for sharing this moment with me," he sighed as we settled back down on the couch.

A/N: I started to write this chapter a couple of days ago, and today I got my thunderstorm! Thanks, Jesus! Sorry about the abrupt ending…I'll be busy coming upp soon IRL and I really wanted to get this posted. And sorry it's shorter. I'm trying to get away from just jotting down what goes on and pumping out heavy dialogue. It's like I forget that my characters aren't like talking statues and they need to move and express emotion with more than just there voices, and I really want to make an effort to get into the thoughts and feelings and actions of all the characters and detail the setting and not just what's inside my own brain and balance all that with dialogue. (Please pardon that run-on sentence!) This is really hard to think about, let alone put intopractice for me, being someone who is visually impaired. Any tips?

Also, still open to ideas…I have a few, but I'd love to see what all you readers ar athinkin'!


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: the chapter that has the thank-you for reviewing gets no reviews? I'm confused LOL. I know you all are reading, though, and I love you for that. Please blame writer's block and/or my

busy life for the wait. This fic has become only very loosely inspired by real life and really more about escapism and fantasizing than my actual life.

WARNING: slightly graphic description of lady problems…

The contrast in writing style between the points of view is very much on purpose, fyi—Erik is all elegance and I'm just like no frills. And I just gotta say: reading actual novels instead of just school textbooks helps me write so much better! Bum, bum, bum, ba-dum-bum, I feel free! (Creem.)

Enjoy.

Erik opened his eyes, but made no move to sit up, despite his Siamese's insistent nudging. The morning sun felt so good on his bear face. But before long, Ayesha was chewing on the sleeve of his baggy nightshirt, demanding he get up and address her. Oh, all right. Erik slowly sat up, yawning, and turned to the cat.

He addressed her in French, as usual. "What do you want, little lady? I'm sleeping."

"Meow," Ayesha said.

"What?"

"Meow." There was impatience in her tone now—or so it seemed. Erik glanced around his room, at his deep blue walls, at his desk full of computer and speaker and various cords and cables, at his case full of books, at his electronic keyboard (the "real" piano was downstairs in the parlor-or living room), at his closed bathroom door…

"Is that it? Need the litter box? Or are you hungry?"

But as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, she leapt onto his night table…which held a cell phone…a phone that wasn't plugged in and still had a black screen even as he pressed his thumb to it. No phone, no clock, no alarm. Erik swore in French a few times, hurriedly plugged the phone in, and frantically fed and watered Ayesha and readied himself for the day. Thank God he kept his door closed: he didn't even think about the mask now until he made to leave his room. When he had finished running around like a headless chicken, he checked his phone: 3 percent battery and growing, and—it was half past 6 in the morning.

Ayesha had probably awoken him around 6:00. His alarm didn't go off until 7.

"Why did you do that to me, you mean little thing?" Erik demanded of Ayesha.

The cat only lapped up the rest of her breakfast before diving into her litterbox…and spraying litter all around.

Erik let out a halfhearted growl. "You're a piece of work, you know that?" He exited the bathroom and went to his computer: if he was awake this early, he might as well push forward on homework.

He had been up a few nights ago until about 3 A.M. trying to compose, and so the night before yesternight he had not set an alarm and slept in. He wasn't too far behind, but he wasn't where he hoped he would be. A handful more assignments and he'd be clear till after spring break. All that free time to get completely absorbed in favorite books and songwriting again!

Speaking of songwriting…Erik's mind drifted to the reasons he had been composing as he waited for his school email to load. He had been trying in vain to convey throu sung words how much his phangirl meant to him. What better Valentine's Day present than a song from your Erik? He had thought. But the pressure of a deadline and that ever-present perfectionism had stalled his brain until all he could picture when he closed his eyes was a skull shattering and the pressurized goop within bursting out and splattering.

Erik meant what he had said that night when she first touched his face without his mask: she was an angel…a little phangirl of an angel. A hard-core phangirl, yes, but an angel nonetheless. Erik loved to see Lauren happy; and if he could be the reason for her happiness, it would be even sweeter. He also believed that Lauren deserved to be showered with affection…not that he could ever measure up to all she'd done for him…but he can make an effort, right? But Erik is also dramatic: he won't just tell Lauren that he really loves her…he wanted to prove it to her. He wanted her to know for sure and have no doubts about his feelings. And he'll be the reason that she's smiling and laughing and being happy and that just sounds blissful…he'll be appreciated and he'll really feel loved.

But now, he had no song. And Valentine's Day had come and gone! Yes, Lauren had been busy all that week with her family and Erik had been busy avoiding his far-too-affectionate-to-each-other mother and stepfather by way of hiding behind schoolwork, and Erik and Lauren had celebrated the weekend after with an evening at his home full of delicious food and all kinds of music, but he still wanted to give her something…a symphony, a ballad, a simple little pop song even—something! Something just to say a sincere "I love you" with no holiday obligation attached.

Ugh. Before his mind ran away with all that, he would finish midterms. All major essays done; only exams and shorter essays that didn't require extensive research or long hours of thinking left. When Erik had finished, he sat back and watched the clock on his computer change in real time. (9:33 AM, 9:34 AM, 9:35 AM…)He looked up POTO gifs on tumblr. He typed nonsense into Google to see autofill in action. The technology as well as the culture of the 21st century still made his head spin in the most enticing way. He was tempted to research plastic surgery, but he repeatedly resisted the urge. He'd come to understand that his face, horrific as it was, made him the Erik he was; he also knew that his phangirl wouldn't forgive him for it easily…God, Erik was so wrapped around her finger. He should probably care…nah.

After grabbing a quick bite to eat, Erik went to his keyboard and tried to compose again…for several hours…and soon it was 3:00; and when it was 3:00, Lauren was finished with work; and when Lauren was finished with work, Erik could see her again! And he didn't have to run to her house to see her—he could text message her or call her or facetime her…there were plenty of ways to be with her. Call Erik pathetic or dramatic or clingy or possessive, but you just couldn't take those qualities out of a Phantom of the Opera, now could you? Besides, this Erik knew what it meant to be in love with a phangirl: no matter how out of line a phantom got, the phangirl was the dreamer, and the dreamer had the power. Even though Erik had come back of his own free will, he still was more than happy to allow his Lauren her say; character contract or not, Lauren was still the author, and Erik was more than okay with that. A Phantom and a phan; no more, and yet, no less.

When Erik could wait no longer, he picked up his phone and impatiently told Siri to call her. Every ring sent the butterflies in his stomach flitting faster and his heart beating a tiny bit harder. Would she pick up? Could he reach her at all? Would he have to go down to her house and find her after all?

Finally, on the third ring, she answered and Erik felt a little silly for getting too frantic. "Yo, ghosty."

But the sound of her voice even through a phone made everything all right, and so Erik just laughed. "'Yo'? What happened to 'Heyo'? I liked that one. You would sing it on a descending perfect fourth like Freddie Mercury at LiveAid."

She laughed back at him. "Okay then. Hey-oh. Happy?"

"Very. Are you free tonight? Your Erik is suffering withdrawal. Darling, my staying with you still depends on the strength of our relationship, and I really do not want to return to my former world inside your mind now; I can not be with you there the way I can here."

"Calm down, " my dear," she soothed. "I've been reading 'The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: the Angel of the Opera' since we last hung out a couple weeks ago and I just finished reading it, actually, before you called. I'm still a hard core phangirl, and you're not going anywhere."

Yes…Erik was not aware of how he knew, but he was still connected to her thoughts and feelings regarding his phandom and he felt her love and happiness every time she turned on her notetaker to read that book. Still, he said, "You don't know how wonderful it makes me feel to hear you say that. What did you think? You are melancholy."

"It's just…it's over. I got no more Phantom books."

"Not yet, but you will find your fix—I know my phangirl: she is as stubbornly determined as her Erik! But, my darling, that is not the reason…I know: you are sad that yet another Erik was given a girl. Remember the ring on your finger, my silly Lauren. You have an Erik who loves you and will never leave you. Say the word and I will be at your side and I will do whatever you need of me."

"Can I come over?"

Please do! "Of course. I've finished my midterms, did I tell you? I am free to songwrite and rest happily in your embrace until mid March!"

"Yay! Thank you for being cheesey."

"Seems strange to thank me for that. May I ask why being a total sap deserves thanks?"

"Because I like feelies, and your cheesey is just enough for feelies and not enough to make me want to fake-puke."

Erik laughed again. "I'll count the seconds—just kidding!." They said their goodbyes and, though Erik knew he would see her and hold her shortly, it was hard to hang up. As silly as it sounded, he wished to remain on the phone with her as she walked down the halfblock to his house.

I was hurting in my gut. Erik and I had been playing with Ayesha "Miou-Miou" in his room for awhile, but then his mom called. God, even through the phone her voice is all whiny and just makes me go uughh. Erik went to check on whatever she was whining about, , and when I wasn't focused on anything else, my body hurt. Oh no—the signs—the signs of the inevitable! Maybe I should tell him that I need to go home.

His bed is comfy. I'll just rest for a couple minutes till he comes back.

Ow.

"Angel? Are you all right?" Erik's on the bed. His hand's on my cheek. His cold hand feels good.

"I hurt a little."

"Where?"

"stomach. Probably nothing." I wish. "I'm super tired, but I don't want to go home."

And then Erik was on the bed next to me. "I'll hold you while you sleep." It probably should have been creepy to me how happy Erik was to do something like cuddle me will I was passed out, but I was happy with it too, so I didn't feel creeped.

When I woke up and sat up, I heard the Psycho music in my head: I was sticky! There was one most likely reason why I was sticky. Oh frickle-frackle. Thank God I wasn't on top of all the blankets.

Erik's beautiful voice. "How are you?" He was standing next to the bed now.

"Uh ..."

Erik took my hand gently, and after a minute, I was relaxed again. "What is it, darling?"

But then I shifted a little and felt it. Yup, definitely there. Did I really have to tell him? My face felt hot.

Erik squeezed my hand. "Lauren? Please say something." He sounded anxious.

"I know why my stomach's hurting."

"About that-I brought you some medicine."

"Thanks ..." I took the pills and the water without thinking about what I was doing. "Um ... I uh ..."

"Yes?"

I'd made sure not to move and to sit on top of the spot that may or may not be bloody. "I'm sorry," I began.

"What for?"

"Um, I don't know if you need to change your sheets. I need to change my clothes. Like I said, I know why my stomach hurt. Ow. Still pain, yay." Hand on my abdomen.

"Oh," said Erik very softly.

"You just have to wash them," I said. "Your sheets are dark, and that's good. If they were white,it'd be worse, but they're darker, and it shouldn't be a lot, so it'll be okay." I hoped. Oh crapity-crap-crap.

"All right. So will you go home and come back?"

"I can come back if you can deal with a tired and cranky me." A tiny part of me didn't want to come back, though—not until the sheets had been washed and this whole thing was forgotten.

Erik didn't say anything. He just put a hand on my back as I scooted to the edge of the bed like he does when he wants to hug me as I stand up.

Walking to the stairs didn't happen-Erik wouldn't let me when he heard me deadpanning ow's as I walked down the hallway. He actually picked me up and carried me into his bathroom.

"What the crap, dude. My supplies are at home."

Erik set me down. "The toilet's right in front of you."

"How bad are my shorts?"

"Let me look." Okay, but awkward. "There's some blood there, but not much. ... Yeah, my sheets are clean. It's all right, angel." Erik was massaging my shoulders now. He probably saw how embarrassed I was.

"Thank you. But, um, I don't think I need to go to the bathroom."

"Which sink is yours in your bathroom?"

"Uh, left one, closest to the window. Why?" What was he gonna do?

"You sit down and I'll soak your bottoms in the sink. I'll get something from your house if I can't find my mother's."

"Oh! No, no, Erik, I'll be fine if I just get home."

Erik put an arm around my shoulders and then moved his hand down to the small of my back. "I won't let you walk all the way down there, silly. I don't mind, really. Every girl has periods, and you wouldn't have told me anything if it wasn't necessary."

He probably just wanted to keep me here. Still, I felt like there should be cartoon hearts in my eyes. This man was just acting perfect. "I love you," I said.

A kiss on my nose. "I love you, too. Sit."

"Leave. Get my stuff and come back."

"I'd rather minimize the damage to your clothes. I'll turn around, you tell me when you are ready, I'll put your clothes in the sink and then get your supplies."

Even a phangirl can't resist when an Erik uses his persuasive voice. "Fine." Peeling off bloody clothes is gross. Underwear and shorts-new shorts-on the floor. I sandwiched myself between the seat and the lid of the toilet. "Okay," I said. I knew Erik wouldn't try to look, but I still wished he could move around with his eyes closed or something.

Erik calmly came over, picked up my clothes, and filled the sink. Then he came back over and kissed my cheek and said, "I'll be right back."

I waited awkwardly for his return, way too aware of what I was doing to his toilet bowl. Ew. And ow. I don't like this.

Only a few minutes later, Erik was back. "I have your night dress," he said. "I'll set everything down next to you. Come out when you're finished."

After I heard the door close, I reached down to feel my summer pajamas and fresh underwear and a pad. I changed and put my shirt on the counter next to the sink. When Ayesha gabbled, Erik let her into the bathroom. I didn't realize Erik had come in until I heard him ask, "Will you feel better now, wearing your nightwear?"

"A lot," I said. "Thanks."

"Of course, my darling. What are you doing?"

"Cleaning up the evidence," I said. I had been wiping down the toilet and the seat. "I didn't want you to see all the grossness."

"Oh, how kind you are. It's quite all right, though. It's not too terribly bad. … There."

We left the bathroom and washed our hands in his mom's bathroom sink at the same time.

"You sure you don't mind my clothes in there?" I asked him.

"Not at all. A couple hours and then we can throw them in a bag and you can take them home with you."

If only Ayesha hadn't decided to investigate. Erik didn't mind my lady stuff in a garbage can in his bathroom at first-until his cat was happy for a new toy!

A/N: It's always funny when guys freak out at the mention or sight of a period, but what about when guys are really sweet about it instead?


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks to LoneShadow17 for some ideas for these next chapters! I hope you like the twists I added :-).

God, it was a long day at work today. Long but productive and satisfying. I sat in the front room of the building waiting for my lift home. Thank God for ride sharing apps! I leaned on my left arm to shove my headphones back into my purse with my right hand and felt Erik's ring press into my finger and I grinned like an idiot. Erik. We hadn't seen each other for a little bit, but now he had another semester behind him and it was Friday and he was meeting me right after work and we were going to mess around with all the musical instruments between our two houses that never got played (tune them, make sure they're ready to play, and then see if we could learn some basic scales/cords).

"Your driver is here," my phone told me. So my dog and I exited the building and hopped into the car.

I ran my fingers over my ring all the way home. I couldn't wait to see Erik again. I still couldn't believe I had a phangirl Erik with me! I had my very own Phantom of the Opera, and he had me; We didn't need to worry about someone swooping in and snatching one of us away from the other. He could come to me with nightmares and doubts; I could come to him with worries and fears; the two of us supported and encouraged each other. Not to mention we knew who to call if one of us wanted a cuddle buddy or a hard core music geek-out. Forgive the crack in the fourth wall, but I had an escape from reality and that escape was happy to be there waiting when I got home. I caressed the little metal band one last time after I corraled me and my dog out of the car and before I reached to open my front door.

I kicked off my shoes and felt the familiar peaceful happiness that comes with coming home to an evening of nothing to do. Tonight and all weekend, it was just going to be me and—

As I passed the piano, an Erik arm wrapped itself around me and then I was sitting on the bench in an Erik hug. I returned the hug and relaxed.

"You know, I should really be a little disturbed when you do things like sneak into my house."

"But you're not."

"You're lucky I'm used to it."

"Would you rather I didn't?"

"Nah."

"I thought so." Erik tapped under my chin with his knuckles so I'd tilt my head back and he kissed me. "I've missed you, my angel."

"I missed you too." I leaned my head back onto his shoulder.

Erik sighed. "The sooner we tune all the instruments, the sooner we can play music together, and the sooner we can do a lot of nothing. Why don't you run and grab the guitars and I'll look at these violins?"

"Okay." I got up reluctantly and ran upstairs to get the gee-tars.

After I came down and we laid all the instruments out, I placed my left hand on the neck of the first guitar, but before I could pluck a string, Erik covered my hand with his and asked, "Why aren't you wearing your ring?"

"I…" My ring was never off of my finger, but now as Erik tapped my pinky with his pinky, I didn't hear our two rings clink together. I felt his ring banging against my finger..my ringless finger. "It was there when I got out of my uber. I felt it when I was on the curb…it's between the curb and the front door I think."

Erik and I got up and he helped me search the whole front room and my purse and even my dog's gear. When we couldn't find it inside, we combed my front porch. Nothing.

"I swear, it's like it just melted off my finger!" she groaned.

"I was sure I sized it right," Erik muttered. "How…it's just gone!" He whirled around from the front door and fired at Lauren as she cradled her bare pinky, "Now that you have no ring, you can happily frolick with other fandoms. Is that why you let it drop off of your hand? To free yourself of your Erik and let him disappear?" They both knew what would happen if Lauren lost interest in Erik and his fandom for long enough. Once Erik disappeared, it would take something as strong as a completely new story to bring him back.

Erik raised his eyes from Lauren's hands to her face. She was fighting tears. Struck by the cruelty of his unnecisarily theatrical outburst, he watched, frozen, as his angel fled up the stairs. A beat, and then Erik leapt after her. "Lauren, my dear, wait! You have every right to be upset with me! I know I've hurt you! But I—"

He stopped outside her bathroom. Her iphone was sitting calmly on the counter. She opened Pandora and a particular POTO song began playing…"the Mirror Angel of Music." And Lauren was standing directly in front of her bathroom mirror, the reflection of her sad face all too viewable in the glass.

"Little Lotte let her mind wander."

"You remember that, too."

Soon, they were both lost in the song and the voices and the memories of the times that song had been playing: in her dorm her sophomore year of college, when her roommate very kindly described the 25th Anniversary performance as it was viewed on Youtube; comparing this recording to the 2004 film recording; hearing this very song before church choir after a tiring day and turning her mood around completely; and, hearing Hadley's magnificent Raoul baritone, remembering that sad scene from Love Never Dies, where he sings a sort of reprise of "Little Lotte."

"You must change; I must get my hat."

And then, as Ramin's voice thundered out from the iphone speaker, from his place in the doorway, Erik caught his own reflection…a glimpse, that was all. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a blurry half of his face. (A/N: don't know if this is accurate because I do not know mirrors at all, but whatever.)

Erik was glued to his spot, watching the shimmering images as if hypnotized. Lauren mouthed "Forgive me" along with Siera Boggess's Christine, And Erik gasped soundlessly: the mirror was glowing, and they were floating.

Hearing Ramin sing and realizing what was about to happen, Erik hurriedly joind in, "Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside." He only caught half of that section, and he could only see half of his face; Christine held her own through the song; but Lauren's face was totally visible.

And now Lauren was singing, accompanying Siera, singing her own words to what was previously Meg's mezzo harmony Line: "I want to be with you. Angel of music, hide no longer, secret and strange angel."

Through all the writer's block and the inspiration droughts, Erik could still feel his phangirls longing to reach him, and the feeling had been mutual: Erik was trying just as hard to get back to her. Lauren had heard Erik's humanity and plea for love no matter the adaptation, and she had answered his call, and so he would cling to his angel, come what may. Christine had been his muse, and Lauren was now his angel. With Lauren, Erik felt wanted for all the right reasons and he knew redemption was possible. And so even if Lauren could not reach him, he would reach out to her. Erik could not let Lauren get away from him.

And so, as Erik felt the falling away of the setting, he desperately sung his own words alongside Ramin's Phantom. "You are my angel of music…don't leave me, angel of music…"

Erik was in his lair. He blinked, sitting up in his coffin. Ayesha was nowhere in sight, and somehow, Erik knew she had not come with him. Erik rose and walked about his lair, but could not tell which persona he was supposed to take on: the adaptation of his story was not clear.

As he sat down at his organ, he noticed with apprehension a wall. There was a wall, and the lair was divided in two…but why? And then Erik remembered the reflections: She is whole, but he is only half. This Erik was a half, so there was another Erik for the other half. There would be two Eriks, one Lauren, and…would there be a Christine?

Okay: that was altra-weird. My bathroom mirror just turned itself into this silvery tunnel while Pandora was playing and now…where am I?

There was a knock on a door in some corner of the room. I turned my head around, listening to the sound bounce around the room and deciding that the blurs all around me looked like bunkbeds. I got up from my own bed and my feet found ballet slippers at its end.

Oh…I was in front of a mirror singing the mirror song. Makes sense now. So I must be in the ballet dorms.

The knock came again followed by a voice. "Lauren? It's Madame Giry."

"Ah. Come in."

A/N: the voices from the 2011 recording of POTO make me think pre-LND and I find it way easier to mess with the characters with those voices for some reason. Warning: in the coming chapters, I poke at quite a bit of phanfic tropes—all in good affectionate fun, but still. I'm brainstorming for the next bit, and I hope this is enough of a taste to tie y'all over till my imagination can push out the next chapter. Thanks again to LoneShadow17 for the writer's unblock, and thank you to everyone who follow/favorite/reviews! Love you guys!


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Fanfic…writing…overload. I had a freaking blast writing this, but I feel sort of dead. Please enjoy this long chapter while my brain reinflates itself. Thank you.

The first half of the first day was confusing, but I learned my little phan backstory: The Girys were really the cool ones: Madame was my teacher and appreciated my effort and perseverance and so treated me well; Meg was my only friendly colleague (being the ballet mistress's daughter, she was automatically an outsider; me being blind, I was as well). Being blind in this time period meant alienation and that was never appealing to me, but at least I didn't have to come up with a backstory on the spot. I was the new girl who didn't have anything interesting to offer at first glance, but being an introvert, I didn't mind that much. Besides, it didn't take me long to gather that the "brats of the ballet" as Lerroux called them liked gossip and superficial topics and let's just say I'm glad I didn't get in their middle. These girls were hard-core Victorians: they were elitists all about social standing and image; it was like the cliquey stereotypical high school was given steroids and thrown back in time to become the late-nineteenth-century Palace Garnier. But since I had the influential Madame Giry on my side, I felt pretty okay about disagreeing with just about everything: I'd do my job and see where I could go from there.

And…I was putting a lot of hope on my Erik. I knew he was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, and he'd been singing along to Pandora. Maybe me having to pee at that moment and deciding to turn on music first was fate. If Erik's here with me, I won't be complaining too much about ballet brats.

But the real upside to the first day came in the afternoon. I was walking back from what was apparently my one-on-one rehearsal time with Madame Giry, counting hallways and doors and following my mental map back to the dorm, when I heard someone shrieking. It wasn't until I caught random phrases in Spanish and registered the telltale haughty/pouty tone that I figured it was Carlotta. What I didn't count on was my hunch being confirmed by my cane tapping the diva's heel and her turning around to give me a temporary case of deafness. It was the heel of her stupid shoe, not her stupid foot, but she still howled like I took my cane and beat up her shin with it.

I waited until she'd run her rant, and then I said very calmly, "I'm sorry, Bella Diva, but I don't believe I broke your shoe. I only touched its heel. I mean you no ill will. May I please be on my way? I'm terribly sorry about disturbing you and your shoe, but-"

"You blind little imbacile! You have broken my very expensive shoe! I know you have!"But when she stomped a foot, I knew by the sound that the heel was perfectly fine. Her shoes would have to be strong anyway, I thought, the way she liked to throw her tantrums: dramatically and frequently.

"Your shoe is in perfect condition, Bella Diva." Throughout the day, I had fuzzy memories creep into my brain that I figured the "me" in this universe was supposed to know already. The little name I called Carlotta was what all the underlings were to call her. And she hated being outsmarted. And I got into trouble a lot when I spoke my mind instead of "being polite and keeping the peace."

Carlotta was whining again. "How do you know? You know nothing! You can see nothing, therefore you know nothing!"

I couldn't resist. "The foot you stomped was the foot closest to me—the foot that my cane tapped. The heel of that shoe struck the ground fairly loudly—something a broken shoe heel would not have done. In fact, I would venture to say that both your shoes are quite sturdy, Bella Diva." I took advantage of her stunned silence to slip past her smoothly and make my way back to my bed. Sha-boom: I had handled La Carlotta like a boss!

But that euphoria was short-lived. Underneath my pillow, I found an envelope. After all the girls had gone to sleep, I opened the letter, hoping for a reassuring note from the opera ghost and hoping that the foreboding I felt in my gut was nothing. But my gut was right, as usual.

Madmoiselle,

Let me first assure you that, upon your arrival, I revisited M. Louis Braille's reading system (which I have now mastered). Henceforth, I expect you to take my little requests seriously and I discourage you from disobeying or interfering with my plans. I do know what you are, Lauren: you're a phangirl; plain and simple. But unlike those silly little phan-fictions you no doubt enjoy reading, this particular Erik is not susceptible to your little phangirl charm or your insistent typing fingers or even your reviewers. I will have Christine as my bride; no one else. Furthermore, I will have no regrets if it comes to pass that I must remind you of with whom my loyalties lie. I shall make this easy for you: if you tamper with the delicate little system I have assembled within my domain, sabotage my Christine in any way, attempt to derail my intentions, or stand in my way at all, to quote a particular stage adaptation, "a disaster beyond your imagination will occur." Remember that little phrase, and you will most likely be safe from my wrath.

Best of Luck,

O.G.

Okay, now I'm anxious. What happened to him when we fell through that mirror? I heard him singing along; I know he followed me. But what the crap happened? So much for sailing over the rainbow and following a yellow-brick road accompanied by some unlikely companions and overly optimistic music. Looks like I'm just going to have to go with the flow…whatever the crap the flow ends up being.

I got a vague idea of the flow the next day, when I met—let's say—our Wicked Witch of the West here. And no, it wasn't Carlotta.

Meg led me from the dorm to rehearsals; apparently everybody was afraid of my cane so I went sighted guide in public and only used my cane when I was going somewhere alone. We woke up at 4 AM, which made me want to scream, and got ready and grabbed breakfast before reporting to the stage at 5. Ugh.

The fuzzy memories were back to show me the orientation of the stage and the routine of rehearsal, and I got through the two-hour group ballet practice all right. (Madame Giry would go over tomorrow's practice with me in our one-on-one later today so I would be prepared.) After ballet came the two-hour full band and ensemble rehearsals (which went smoothly enough also), and finally before noontime lunch, the three-hour rehearsal with the leading performers—the actors playing actuall characters got to sleep in the latest in hopes that they would either rest well or practice extra—something told me not everyone used that time wisely. From 1 to 6 was time for one's self for the ensembles and more rehearsal time for those playing larger parts (Madame and I met from 4 to 6—though I did finish early sometimes and earned a half hour to myself before dinner at 6). Some time for relaxation after dinner, and lights out—or I guess candles out was nine. The only day that broke this schedule was Sunday: beautiful, wide-open-free Sunday. And on performance nights, everything was bumped up a couple hours so we got to wake up at 8 instead of four and have longer blocks throughout the day (but with shorter breaks) until curtain time.

Christine was not in the ballet with us, and I learned at 9 o'clock that day that she had been elevated to…understudy. Since La Carlotta insisted that she didn't need rehearsing (which we were all secretly thankful about), Christine sung her parts in practice and was to be ready to step in during performances if needed. The three hours went okay…just okay. Fine, I'll say it: Christine was a total diva in the making, down to the entitled attitude and the adoring ballet rats. She talked over our director and every time she made a comment someone from the chorus would just shower her with over-the-top support and praise. I actually think she was worse than Carlotta—let me explain: Carlotta was loud and obnoxious and made a scene just to have people watch her throw a tantrum because she thought she couldn't be dismissed no matter what she did; Christine acted like she was an angel trying to better the company to get everyone to like her, but she knew she was the girl with the angel's face who got whatever she wanted and took full advantage of that to boost her popularity. I tried hard not to be noticed-I so didn't want to get under her skin. I didn't want her sicking the antiphan Erik on me.

At lunch was when I got the inkling that Christine was our wicked witch. I sat down next to Meg, and told her that by the sound of things, I'd be better off waiting to get my food until the chaos had gone down a little. "You can get your food if you'd like," I said, "but I'm all right waiting a bit."

She agreed and went away. I was focusing on the empty chair on my right side, waiting for Meg to return and hoping she'd do so before the other girls crowded around our ballet table, so I didn't think much of the empty seat on my left until There was a touch on my arm and a voice in my ear.

Christine touched my arm so gently that it felt like a caress—which creeped me out a little. It was like she was overly cautious about touching me—like I was wild or something. And when she spoke, I could hear overwhelming sweetness and thinly-veiled superiority in her tone. "Excuse me, but is someone sitting here?" And she tapped the chair on my left.

Nobody was sitting there. And before I could think of a passable excuse to get her to sit somewhere else, a ballet girl piped up as they all descended upon the table. "Of course you can sit here, Miss Daae."

Christine plopped herself right down and addressed the girls with a little laugh. "Oh, please. We're still colleagues. You all can still call me Christine."

"Lauren, I'm back," Meg called, and my tray swooped down in front of me before Meg sat herself down. I liked Meg. She wasn't afraid of me at all; she wasn't nervous to poke me in the arm to get my attention or point something out to me and she didn't act like my doing something differently was a big scandal. I thanked her for grabbing me a plate and we all dug in.

I was thankful that we were all so hungry because the girls wouldn't suck up to Christine in ways that I could hear. Thre-quarters of the hour went by all right, but at the end of our lunch period…it started with something so random. One of the girls sighed and said, "Ah, that chocolate cream cup was so delicious!"

"Oh," I said. "They had chocolate cream cups today?"

"I'm sorry, Lauren," said Meg. "By the time I got to them, they had all been snatched up."

"It's okay," I said truthfully. On Sundays, I went out and visited church and did my shopping for the week with Madame Giry and breezed by a little pastry shop and got my sugar fix there…and oh what a sugar fix it would be! But I didn't tell many people because Sundays were when I got the chance to be independent, and the more people that knew the more fuss I could get—I didn't want fuss.

But Christine just had to jump in and be the charitable kind of woman. Usually, the help offered to me is honest and genuine and I reciprocate the politeness; but sometimes you just know when someone is making a show about helping a "less-fortunate" to get some brownie points. Christine saw this situation as an opportunity for herself. "I took two," she said. "Take my extra."

As she slid the dish in front of me, the girls went into coos of adoration. "You're so kind, Christine." "How generous you are, Christine." "I wish I'd have thought to give her mine."

"No sense in having you be the only one here who didn't get dessert," she said. Well, that made me feel sooo great—not!

I thanked Christine and ate the stupid chocolate (though I wished I could've smooshed it in her "sweet face" or her golden hair).

Out of all the phantom worlds I could have landed in, why one with an anti-phan Phantom and a mean Christine? Not that I'd be chomping at the bit to be Christine's BFF. I won't lie: I have a girl crush. Christine Daae is the main character; the star of the show. She's always described as almost ideally perfect and is always portrayed sympathetically. She has two men who love her, yet despairs about the drama. I know I might not be completely fair here, but their were reasons why I'd fanticize about stealing Erik from her in most adaptations (if I wasn't stealing, I wanted to be her). Above all, though, Christine had more of a chance with Erik than I ever thought I'd have, and she blew it. I'm not that psyched that she hurt Erik. And now, I can't comfort myself with the fact that I got my Erik anymore because my phangirlified Erik has turned into an antiphan Erik.

Some days passed, and soon enough, I was getting praise from our conductor as well as the management. I didn't bother to hide my happiness. All I did was my job. I put in an honest effort and thought about nothing but doing my job right—not about gossip or about status or about what other people whispered behind my back. I knew they'd whisper. But no spectical-making would change that. But now I was having fun performing and being praised for my dancing and my ability to learn choral music by ear instead of just being pitied for my "misfortunes", so yes, I was going to enjoy that.

But our Phantom didn't agree. I got another letter one night.

Lauren,

You may have fooled the management (not a tremendous feat, I assure you), but you can fool me not. Do not expect to climb high in my opera house on your so-called remarkable abilities. We both know you can not totally erase a disability. Again, I remind you: your knowledge of my story will get you nowhere here. My patience for phangirls is quite thin. Tread carefully.

O.G.

Jeez. Why didn't he just say "you're indirectly threatening Christine by taking some attention for yourself and that makes me angry"? I actually wanted to write back to him just to tell him I mean no harm to his precious angel, but I'd better wait to write till after Saturday. Sunday I could see no one if I desired, and I thought I should put a sizable gap between encountering Christine and writing to the Phantom.

I didn't write on Sunday though, because I underestimated Saturday. I would need Sunday just to recover enough from Saturday, forget the whole freaking week. . Because that Saturday evening, I overherd a conversation between a protegee and an angel. I was walking by the chapel, taking a shortcut to avoid certain horny stage hands, when I heard voices inside.

"Well done, my Christine," crooned a velvety voice. Erik was half-singing as the Angel of Music.

"Thank you, angel," Christine replied happily.

"Very soon, my child, you shall rise to your proper place as the prima donna and charm all of the world. You are destined for great things, Christine."

"I know that I will triumph over Carlotta in a matter of time, and the world will see me shine. And I know that with the proper training and discipline, you, my angel of music, will give me the courage and the strength to succeed. I know that, with your help, I shall achieve what I have always dreamed!"

"Yes, my Christine. You shall."

Christine gave a dreamy sigh. "Oh, angel. I don't know what I would do without your influence. I feel I'll never be able to repay you."

"You give to me more than enough when you sing, child. Not a soul could ever move this angel's heart the way you can."

I heard the trembling in Christine's voice when she spoke next and I couldn't not picture big, showy tears in her eyes. Will…will you ever leave me? I want you to stay with me always! I need you forever, angel."

Erik's response was just as dramatic. "I shall never leave you, Christine! Wherever you are, I will be."

"Then Iam satisfied."

Um…ew. Creepy and ew.

"But…what of those that stand in my way?"

"Who would ever be so foolish to prevent you from reaching your dreams?"

"Well, there is this girl in the ballet. She is jealous of my success—I know she is. She is the one who has been trying to convince us all that her skills surpass and excuse her lack of sight."

"Ah yes. I know of her. Do not worry, Christine. I will not allow her to hinder you. She has already been…warned."

"Oh, thank you, my Angel of Music."

Wicked witch found. I should have known they'd be on the same side. If they weren't, I'd have a chance at being happy here. But I'm not stupid enough to get in between those two; I'll focus on my chorus duties for now. Maybe the Nadir Kahn of this universe will be a good guy…or maybe just a paranoid one. Should I take that risk and find out?

Erik was still staring at that wall when a familiar voice echoed throuout the lair. "Erik, when did you put that up?"

Erik whirled around and couldn't contain his grin. "Nadir!"

The former daroga just smiled, looking the slightest bit weary. "I see you're in a good mood. But really: why a wall of mirrors? I had come to understand that you hated mirrors."

"I do. I—" but Erik's voice stopped abruptly. He had been about to say he didn't mind them so much anymore but they still weren't his favorite thing. But upon rising from the organ bench and striding over to examine the wall with Nadir, he caught sight of something. "Nadir, look. The mirror is not a mirror. It is a window with no light."

Through the window, they could see the other half of the laire…and the other Erik at his own organ, banging out DJT.

"I don't understand," the Persian murmured. "It is a window, and we can see it, but if there is no light, why do we see it as if their was? And why, praytell, is there another you?"

Erik sighed. "My friend…I must break the invisible wall to explain."

Nadir's face paled. "No."

"Yes. Let me get you a brandy and I'll explain what happened." And not but a few minutes later, they both were on the couch in Erik's study and Erik explained. "The window with no light is significant: it's how an Erik knows that something is happening or will happen related to his fandom, not just his story. I, this Erik, entered this world through a mirror from my phangirl's world. Yes, my phangirl is somewhere here too, but it is not a happy situation. You see, I only caught half of my reflection before falling and…well, you know how mirrors can distort shape, reflect things upsidedown, play with light and one's visual perception. I am only half of the…opera ghost. There is another Erik here. But I do not know if he is aware of the fandom, so I do not know if he can see the window of light"

Nadir sighed. "I'm from your universe, Erik. I too was standing in front of a mirror about a week ago."

Erik leapt up. "A week? We've all been here for a week? My poor phangirl has been under that other, horrible Phantom's influence for a week?"

All too familiar with his friend's hysteria, Nadir reached out and calmly grasped Erik's arm. "Erik, before you go any farther, please tell me why this is so dire."

When Erik spoke, it was in a strangled, scared voice. "My so-called other half is…my Lauren's nightmare. My reflection is distorted…he, the other Erik, is a Christine-infatuated, phan-intollerant Phantom of the Opera, and I have no idea what roles the other characters play."

"Calm down. I'll help you; I have been aboveground. Most of the other characters are neutral. Meg is an ally. Madame Giry has proven to be a great instructor to a blind dancer. Carlotta is Carlotta. From what I have seen, Lauren will not be affected by the other Phantom's notes. She's strong, and the other Phantom wasn't expecting that." "

"It's just a pity he has already interacted with her. Now I'll have to convince her that we are not one in the same. And I'll have to get that other Phantom away from my phangirl." Erik finished on a growl.

Nadir just smiled, wide and genuine this time. "Finally putting those traits I remember from Persia to good use now, aren't you?"

A/N: "invisible wall", inspired by the term "fourth wall," means in my mind the speaking of one's story and/or of one's fictional character ness. Self-aware characters aware of their fans/fanfic authors. Please tell me that makes sense. I've been writing practically nonstop since last post and I can't think anymore. Please let me know about any mistakes or plotholes. Thanks.


	19. Chapter 19

I was really starting to enjoy my new life of literally living/eating/sleeping/breathing music—my heaven! I'd also been doing my best to blend in and had been succeeding: I was just another ballet girl; I didn't try to be interesting; I just did my job and ate and slept; Meg and I were still close enough, but nobody thought me worth a second glance—even the Phantom. Perfect. I couldn't call him Erik anymore—he was acting like a scary, crazy ghost anyway. Scary and crazy, not just crazy. I was seeing the POTO that the ballet rats saw, and I could understand why they didn't think so highly of him. The Phantom used fear to dictate; he kept everybody in line in our little places exactly lest his opera house not meet his standards; and a huge part of meeting his standards was that Christine get whatever she needed or desired to facilitate her success—everyone else was considered subpar. I started to wonder who ruled this roost: the Phantom had influence over the opera house, but Christine had influence over the Phantom.

Lauren entered through the great doors of the opera house. It was Sunday, so she had been out doing her shopping, and now she was sun-kissed and smiling. (She hadn't smiled much lately, and Erik hated to see her unhappy so often.) He had avoided the other Erik well enough so far, but he hadn't had the chance to approach his phangirl yet: he did not want anyone else to witness this Erik's interaction with Lauren lest they think falsely that it was the other Erik. The other Erik most definitely would not warm up to a friendly conversation rumored to be between him and a phangirl. But now that other was nowhere in sight and the foyer was empty: perfect.

Erik began to sing, soft and wordless, like the scene after the masquerade ball in M. Lerroux's story. His phangirl stopped to listen, but once she determined what she was hearing, she frowned and groaned and went to hurry across the foyer and away. So Erik stepped from the wall panel he had been singing behind and quickly reached a cadence and cleanly ended whatever phrase it was—he didn't really care anymore. He moved across the stone floor and called his Lauren's name before gently laying a hand on her shoulder. At the sound of her name on his lips, she relaxed just a fraction. And when he touched her, she politely pivoted round to face him. But her eyes had a guarded look: Erik knew that she was thinking hard and that she would shut him down as soon as she had reason considering his other's behavior.

So Erik decided to be blunt. "There are two Eriks. I followed you through the mirror but only saw half my face. The other Erik—the antiphan Phantom-is a reflection, the opposite of me."

After a moment, Lauren spoke. "Your voices are different. The Phantom sounds like Ramin—but not cool Ramin, intense and unhinged and scary Ramin. You sound like you." It seemed that she was trying to convince herself, though.

Erik tried to lighten the mood. "So pre-LND? Oh, then we're in for quite a time, aren't we? At least there are vast differences."

"But the other one isn't you?"

"No." Had she really thought that? Erik reached out without thinking and held Lauren close, imagining his arms like shields against the other opera ghost. "No, my angel. That was not me at all. I've been with my music for the past week. The only reason I didn't come to you sooner was because I was avoiding my other." Unable to resist, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I've wanted to apologize for my harsh words ever since I said them. Now that the mirror has happened, I know that it wasn't your fault that your ring disappeared. Someone else is interfering with us and our story again."

Her voice was muffled—she didn't bother to lift her face from his chest. "There are two of you?"

"Yes."

Lauren was relaxing more and more, like the more she heard her Erik's voice the more comfortable she felt. "So you weren't the Erik who was discouraging me whenever I acted 'too bold' or 'too independent'?"

"No." Erik already missed his Lauren's time. And her culture. Americans were independent individuals and the 21st century wasn't full of dramatic Victorians…not as many, anyway. Far fewer social limitations back there then there were here.

"You aren't the Phantom who sends me notes to nickpick my performance and compare me to Christine? 'I'll have no regrets if I must remind you of where my loyalties lie.' And," her voice shrunk. "My favorite one was, 'You have no hope of being compareable to Christine; be grateful that you have just enough value to me to stop me transferring you from this palace to an asylum.'

Oh no. Erik scooped his phangirl into his arms and vanished into the wall panel, heading for his lair. They spent the afternoon down there and made up for lost time. Erik spoiled Lauren, preparing her food and drinks and kissing her whenever he wanted and keeping her comfortable and listening to her as she told him about her experiences and suspicions in this opera house.

"So," he said, one arm round her shoulders as they sat backwards on his organ bench, "Madame Giry is ballet mistress, yet Christine looks like Lerroux's Christine. I think, my dear, that this is your own POTO world: ballet Giry, kind Meg, standard-European-beauty Christine, one-dimensional Carlotta—well, that's not exactly unique, is it?Have you seen the Raoul here yet? He's the last third of the trio; his persona might tell us a lot about this."

"No. I don't think he's been introduced yet."

"You seem distracted. What are you thinking?"

"If there were two Eriks…I don't know. It seems really obvious to me now, but why couldn't I tell the difference before?"

"Because you are aware of an Erik's troubled soul…you do not expect Eriks to bend to the will of a fanfictioner without either strong convincing or the most glaring of plotholes. You could accept that a fall through a mirror during ALW's mirror song could really 'twist me every way'."

Lauren poked him in the side, and he wasn't sure if he was laughing at her adorable grin, or at that tickly sensation, or at the fact that when he first met her he would have reacted to her poking him really differently. "Oh, good one," she said. But then she continued, "And where have you been for the past week?"

Erik answered easily enough. "Playing my music. I was not aware of so much time passing. You know how Kay made me that way." But he hoped she couldn't notice the change in his mood. He had been playing his music to give him strength…quite literally. Apparently when two Eriks are in one world, music determines their strength and their influence. Luckily, Erik only needed his Lauren and not the entire opera house, so the other Erik could thunder on his organ all he wanted—this Erik was quite content with his violin.

"OK," she said resignedly. ". Just don't disappear too often."

"Oh. With you and Nadir both on my case, I doubt I'll be able to," He replied with a little laugh.

And his Lauren got excited. "Yay, there's a Persian here! One or two of them?"

"Just one. But he was in front of a mirror as well, so he knows us both."

"And was he listening to the 25th Annivarsery recording?" she asked doubtfully.

"No, but he has a ring too, and he told me it glowed along with the mirror."

But she hadn't known about Nadir's ring before. And now she was frowning and that made him anxious. She didn't believe him—he knew it. She was not completely convinced. She thought he was crazy. She wasn't sure whether to believe him or not. Unfortunately, he had to take her back up before she missed her one-on-one ballet instruction with Madame Giry and her one-on-one chorus instruction with M. Reyer. On the way back up, he tried with all his heart to figure out how to sway her completely. He even highlighted particular times in the past with her that helped him realize that he preferred her to Christine.

But as he walked back down through the cellars alone, he still felt a feeble twist of anxiety in his stomach. There was something more to this and he knew it. The other Erik wouldn't be the only obsticle here. Knowing this would take more energy than he had initialy thought, Erik sspent some time with his violin as well as his own organ and his voice that week, and strolled above ground the next Saturday.

On Saturdays, Lauren didn't have any evening instruction unless she really needed it, and she was in a good place now, so she had the whole evening to herself and tomorrow she would go out quietly and go to church and the pastry shop and have some time away from the opera house. Erik was waiting for her outside of the dining hall, hiding in a pillar. He would wisk her away for the evening and ask her if he could accompany her tomorrow for her stroll on Sunday. (A stroll on Sunday! With his Lauren!)He had watched the rehearsals today, for the first time feeling strong enough to prowl about like a second phantom, and had decided that Lauren could appreciate going away from all this early: the Phantom had really enjoyed moving little props and terrifying the ballet girls; and when Lauren had not reacted, that other had given her a scare by dropping a small set piece not a half a meter away from her. And Erik had not yet seen the Christine, but he had heard her enough: that voice…Erik had to be very careful lest he get trapped by it...it was familiar, but he dared not consider why. The thing that made him sad was this wretched girl's attitude: she was a diva to rival that of Carlotta, and she disguised it all behind a pretty face and a pure-looking heart. Erik had kept his eyes on his Lauren, and had noticed her distaste for this Christine (and for good reason, Erik thought).

The dining hall doors opened and Erik snapped to attention. He watched all the performers and builders and painters and costume-makers and so on spill out. And at the end of it all, he would see Lauren walking out on the arm of…that wasn't Meg Giry. It was…oh no…he did know this Christine after all…

This was the Christine he had left…who had posed as the so-called other ally to the character-sitter people. At the time, Erik hadn't cared how she'd done it, but now he was determined to find out just how. All these two weeks, he had watched his other fawn over Christine, and now that targeting Lauren made sense. It was no wonder she was being targeted: Lauren herself had told Erik, "If the Phantom has influence over the opera house, but Christine can have influence over the Phantom, is it too much to think that Christine is influencing the opera house?" Now, Erik did not doubt this. The only small comfort was that he now knew who he was dealing with.

Christine was speaking. "Really, it's no trouble walking you back. I just hope poor Meg feels well soon. I would hate to think she might miss too much rehearsals." She sure was speaking differently than Erik remembered. He remembered hearing a perfectly sweet and kind tone to her voice. But when she spoke to Lauren, it was as if she was speaking to someone of much lower intelligence or class than herself. And by the expression on Lauren's face, she could hear that demeaning tone too.

Lauren grunted out some reply and seemed determined to walk in silence. She was clutching Christine's elbow and following her, but it was plain to see that she wished she had her cane with her so she could let go of her sighted guide. Christine was escorting Lauren through the halls with a very proud stride, like she was carrying out a most important task. Erik noticed as he followed, though, that Lauren was discretely listening and feeling for close corners: she didn't trust her guide.

Christine took a back route, and when Erik saw her slowing in a desserted corridor, he felt a wave of dread. Then Christine stopped and turned to face Lauren and spoke again. "I'm glad that set piece didn't hurt you. I never mean for Erik to injure people."

"So you do know what power you have," Lauren said.

"Of course I do. But you aren't going to go telling anyone, are you? I can't have people coming to me with all their silly little requests—Erik is much better at dealing with that. I need to focus on reaching my own dreams and, consequently, ridding the world of Carlotta."

"Can't argue with you there."

"I wasn't finished speaking," Christine said, stamping her foot. Behind the wall, Erik rolled his eyes: one diva out, another diva in. "I know that you are determined to win Erik back from me, so I'll make it easy for you: find the Persian man—I don't know his name—and ask him how to return to your own universe. And return alone. As a phangirl, you should know how devoted Eriks are to their Christines. Fanfiction may be convincing, but it has no real cannon power in any fandom—you know this. Go back to your own world and save yourself the heartbreak."

No…no…she wouldn't. Nadir wouldn't let her, would he?

"No. Not without trying." Oh, thank God his Lauren was so tenacious. "Why are you doing this?, by the way"

"I am truly sorry I couldn't be your friend. But I am Erik's ally, and I must do what is best for him. And what is best for Erik is to stay within his fandom's boundries."

And what happens in nearly every adaptation, Erik thought wryly, is that the Erik ends up alone or dead and Christine goes off to her fans or another man, usually a Raoul. And then Erik was wondering again what the Raoul in this world would end up doing.

Lauren seemed to be thinking similar thoughts. "Random question. Where the heck is Raoul?"

"Raoul? Gone. For shipping convenience. Saving Erik from your kind is more important to me right now."

They had been speaking rather calmly up to this point, like two ladies discussing the current gossip. But now Lauren's expression turned almost fierce. "Not going to happen."

Erik wanted to fist pump, but there wasn't enough room in his hiding place.

But Christine just looked crafty. "Haven't you noticed a…change in him lately? Doesn't he seem less…what's that phrase you would use? He's just not 'into you' anymore."

"But there are two of them, right?"

"Two? What proof do you have of that? Why would there be two Eriks?"

"Erik told me."

"Probably just to aid in weaving a web of deceit like is his specialty."

"Why?"

"You know that Erik has never had a stable mind. Honestly, how long did you think you could keep him entertained? Christine reached and grabbed Lauren's arm without warning, and led her towards the end of the desserted hall. "I really am saving you, Lauren. An Erik must be left alone to his own fate. He can not love a woman without hurting her. Trust me: I know."

Christine brought Lauren to the end of the ballet corridor and promptly left her where she was, evidently finished with Lauren after telling her what she was to do and not caring if Lauren made it back to her dormitory after all. Lauren knew the way, so that wasn't really an issue. But what was an enormous issue was Christine standing in the way of Erik's happiness and creating drama in the guise of helping someone else. Thanks a lot, Christine; way to make this harder for Erik. Must you always complicate situations with your selfish, brash decisions? Yes, yes, Christine was doing exactly what Erik eventually does in his many stories, but how would Erik convince Lauren that he wasn't unstable and out to get her now?

Back in his lair, Erik played the organ until he could think without his emotions getting in the way. He needed to make sure Christine never had that opportunity to talk with Lauren alone again. And there was one sure-fire way to make an Erik's point clear: sending dramatically superfluous messages, especially to people who threaten

That next Saturday, a little before noon, Erik hid in the catwalks well out of the way of the Phantom, who was running around staring at Christine and pulling tiny tricks to keep the company alert. Erik was watching Lauren, smiling to himself when he saw her diligently following the music as well as Madame Giry and Reyer's instructions with her ears. Because she was listening so intently, she had better rhythm than most of the girls.

But soon, the ensemble finished their section, and Christine stepped out to sing. And the Phantom snapped to dreamy-eyed attention. And Erik smirked, unseen.

Christine opened her mouth, sang feebly, coughed. Tried again, coughed. And tried again. Raspy squeaks.

Erik slipped away, satisfied. Thanks for the idea, Andrea-Ferreol-Carlotta. Christine would be able to sing in a few hours or by tomorrow morning, after she'd washed that tea away with plenty of water, and her health would not be in jeopardy. On the bottom of the cup that had held that tasteless tea, however, there was a red wax skull instead of the red wax rose that her angel would leave as a signature. If she looked there, she would know that Lauren had an Erik on her side.

Well, that was entertaining. I practically skipped down the hallway to my dorm. Maybe Carlotta here wouldn't be so bad. I mean, who else could have done that to Christine? I turned my skips into dance steps the best I could and tried to keep my satisfaction down: best not let the POTO catch me being happy right now when his Christine was in sooo much distress. But I guess he wasn't off comforting Christine right after the disaster, because there was an envelope on my pillow. Well fan-freaking-tastic.

Lauren,

I know that both you and Carlotta will deny hurting my Christine. Since neither of you will admit it, I may have to punish you both.

O.G.

A/N: I got writer's block in the middle of (what will be) the next chapter, so I broke it off here to post for you guys. And…must…watch…described…POTO…phan-ness…threatening…to…fade…NOOOOO! Must bring phangirl-ness back and break up the writer's block…until next time, people!


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Meh. I have been sucked into the "Rats of NIMH" fandom. Mercilessly! And the outlined chapters for this fic just keep changing and ideas keep morphing. And oh, there's that life that I have to go and find and all that adulting that I've been neglecting. . Meh.

Carlotta's punishment came on the first performance night.

Sleeping in until 8 felt like a gift from the heavens. We all rehearsed together and apart on and off all day, with lunch and dinner at the usual times and time between dinner and curtain time to collect ourselves. The rehearsals went okay—as hectic as any big dress rehearsal is—rushing through and trying to nitpick at the same time, breezing by the polished bits and fretting about the rough bits. I went on my dress rehearsal autopilot and put everything but the performance out of my mind. It worked: I made few mistakes and I didn't hear a lot of bad talk about a blind ballet girl actually taking part in the performance. Meg and Madame had both reassured me that nobody would be able to tell that I was blind if I followed my cues, and Meg and I had special signals for the cues I could not hear.

I ate dinner quickly and was off to Madame Giry to go over last-minute things and double-check my orientation to the stage and to each scene. (I left before Christine got her food and sat down. Ha.) I'd snuck my cane from under my bed and hidden it behind the caf's door hinge, so now I slipped out easily to walk the now quiet halls alone and made to Madame's quarters swiftly. I knocked.

"Come in. Good evening, Lauren. How are you feeling?"

"Quite well. Quite well about tonight's performance. I was just thinking a quick overview, and I'll listen to any comments you have."

"Splendid. Now, first off…"

I stuck to Meg like glue that night. She was excellent with her signals and I had no hesitation in telling her so. She stomped her foot when I needed to know where she was, we suttly spun back when I faced the wrong direction, she counted off in whispers along with the conductor's batton when there was no orchestra following to hear, I used passive echo location to maneuver around props and performers, and as soon as I was in the wings I could reach for Meg's arm and she was always nearby. Things were going smoothly, thank God.

Carlotta, who I was extremely glad hadn't crossed paths with me all day, was out there bird-calling the final aria before we would all bow. Meg and I were hugging and whispering fiercely about how grateful we were that no disaster had happened yet. I was only vaguely following the song's structure, waiting to pay actual attention until the final phrases when I would take the final cadence as my cue to be ready to walk out again.

And then it happened…a glorious, not-supposed-to-be-funny thing happened. Carlotta reached the final note of her aria, the final syllable of the final word, the final sound that the audience would hear from her…and she screeched. She didn't croak like a toad. She screeched like a dying bird.

The orchestra finished their part, not knowing what else to do, I suppose, and the applause was not as thunderous as was expected but still appreciative. One sour note didn't detract from an entire night's performance…usually. But the reviews would come out and it was inevitable that that final screech would be mentioned…fitting punishment for Carlotta: attack her rep.

But as I was walking back to the dormitory and thinking about how good it would feel to flop into my comfy bed, I heard a noise. A noise that sounded like a breeze was trying to whisper.

"You're next."

I knew Meg hadn't heard. She wasn't supposed to hear. Only I was supposed to hear that reminder.

Surprisingly, two Eriks running around had worked out quite nicely so far. The other had not discovered Erik yet. Erik supposed this was because he was really using the trapdoors more than the catwalks or hallways, which the other was focused on watching. Erik kept an eye on the other only to avoid him, and watched the chaos that goes on in an opera house the day of a performance like one might watch a sporting event.

He had to admit: the Phantom's methods worked well. A small part of Erik was greatful that he didn't have to take on the Phantom's role on top of everything else here. The Phantom carried around several full pens and stacks of little blank slips of paper so that he could scroll notes and toss them out to the staff at a moment's notice, or used a little prank to bring a lazy group back on their toes. And he was almost constantly moving through passageways from level to level and room to room, doing all that he could to ensure that not a gear slipped out of place. (And at the same time, of course, he was sending little messages of encouragement and adoration to Christine as the Angel.)

Erik, on the other hand, need only follow his Lauren. She was taking on the chaos with the practiced ease of a performer (no doubt she was putting her experience from her many years in school choirs to good use once more). She was attentive and efficient and meticulous. She put all her focus on preparing for the night's opera and Erik knew it would show splendidly. And show splendidly it certainly did! Lauren had everything organized, down to the specific points to address with Madame Giry before the curtain went up. She had a plan and a signal for everything, and moved about the stage and danced and sang as seriously as a soldier marches in battle. And of course, Meg was nothing less than an excellent partner. Not a soul in the audience suspected that Lauren had any physical limitations, and in this setting, that was exactly perfect.

A truly entertaining event came, of course, when dear Carlotta screeched at the end of that first night's performance. Erik laughed right along with the Phantom! And while the phantom gazed at Christine as she bowed with the ensemble, Erik gazed at Lauren, both equally proud.

But then, well, Erik made a typical Erik mistake: confident in his darling's talent and so certain of the stability of her position, he slipped back to his music: music made him strong…stronger than morphine…Lauren would surely be all right if he just took a little time to disappear.

My punishment came later, on a normal, non-performance day.

The reviews of this performance had come in and had been fair. Meg read me the newspaper when she could over breakfast, and we laughed together over the critics' response to Carlotta's bird call. ("An unfortunate but no less memorable ending to an otherwise very well-done performance.") Waking up early again was a bit of a struggle, but that's what coffee is for! Ballet and ensemble rehearsal went well, and although it was the hardest for me when we were learning a new repertoire because I couldn't sightread, I listened and took mental notes and followed along the best I could.

But when it was time for the leads to enter the day's group practice, the managers entered as well. This never happened. Oh boy. And when they pulled me and Giry and Reyer aside to "discuss something privately first," I knew it was coming.

"Madmoiselle," began one of the managers quietly (I had no idea what there names were here), "You have been relieved of your duties in the chorus. Don't fret. You still have a job. Madmoiselle DuVal here will show you all about how to be a member of our cleaning staff."

"What?" I blurted. "Why?"

"Monsieurs!" Giry whispered fiercely. "Surely you won't take away one of my best learners and hardest workers!"

"Our apologies, Monsieur. But it was simply too much for people to go around assisting her with makeup and extra practice when they should be focusing on their own jobs." Oh sure, talk about me like I'm not here. "It boils down to this: it was not as smooth as the Phantom wanted it on performance nights." Bullcrap.

"With all due respect, sirs, it was my first time performing," I said calmly. "I'm sure I'll get better with more practice."

"We simply haven't time for you to improve at…your own pace," a manager said in a tone that he might use on a child. "You'll like Madamoiselle DuVal. You'll still get to reside in the opera house. You'll learn to like your new job here."

I sort of hated these guys.

"Monsieurs, please," Reyer interjected. "Lauren has worked harder than anyone else in the chorus and exceled beyond most as a result. She has even assisted other members when she could! Losing her will not benefit us greatly, I assure you."

"It has been decided. I'm sorry." A manager reached forward and laid a hand on my shoulder. "Madmoiselle DuVal is on her way now."

They stepped back and raised their voices to address everyone onstage. "Well, now that that's out of the way, ladies and gentlemen, your attention please. We have come here to inform you that, most unfortunately, La Carlotta has left us. I know that this is a very sad occurrence indeed," (actually, I heard sighs of relief and whispered expressions of triumph), but that means… "but we do have a solution. I'm sure you will all join us in congratulating our new prima donna…Christine Daae!"

Applause. Happy cheers. Well wishes in excited tones. Christine started to give a little speech about how she was "so very honored" to have finally climbed so high, and I was actually glad to feel a tap on my shoulder and to hear a voice in my ear.

"Lauren? I am Madmoiselle DuVal. Would you come with me?"

I don't know if anybody noticed, but I was happy to walk away in the middle of Christine's speech.

That first day was a lot of learning-not hard, just busywork. All of it was. Madame Duval taught me how to clean the house seats. I could organize the supplies the way I wanted every time I moved around. There was always a group of cleaning staff in one area, in case I needed assistance. Well, at least it didn't present any big obsticles.

And Madmoiselle DuVal tried to cheer me up. "And we get to listen to every rehearsal While we work!"

Yeah…I get to listen to the music I was so excited to help perform. You got what you wanted, OG: I'm miserable. Are you happy now?

I was touched at lunch when Meg came over. "Lauren! I snatched you a chocolate cream cup."

"Aw. Thanks, Meg."

"I'm so upset that you're not rehearsing with us anymore! Maman and Mr. Reyer were furious all morning. Why, I almost want to write to the ghost myself!"

"I would if I believed it would help any," I told her. "Still, it's not like we won't see each other. Hey, why don't we eat supper together whenever we can. Breakfast and lunch, all the staff are in groups for a reason, but supper?"

"Oh what a fantastic idea! Could—could my mother join us? We always eat supper together."

"Why not? Anyone who we like, I suppose."

"Hurray! I can't wait to tell her!"

After the first day had concluded, I was shown my new living quarters. It was no dormitory, just a little closet room with a bed and an armoire thing crammed in there. On the plus side, I had a room to myself, the bathroom was closer than in the dorms and it didn't require walking public hallways to reach a bath, and I had less clothing to worry about now.

Not to mention, I could wake up a whole three hours later every day! Halleluiah! At 7, I got out of bed, and by 8, we had all eaten breakfast and were given our chores for the day. In the mornings, I helped restock supplies around different places in the opera house. Someone went with me, of course, but four hands working were better than two. After lunch, I cleaned seats for as long as it took to get my section done—sometimes two hours, sometimes four, but I was always done a bit before dinner.

All this time to myself now that I didn't have to practice so much, especially in the evenings…I wished I had something to do—a book to read or something. I did get something to read eventually: I wasn't surprised when I got a note from the Phantom a week or so following the job change.

Lauren,

Allow me to apologize for the fact that you are no longer participating in music-making. Unfortunately, it was simply ill-fitting for you to be part of that chaos. As sad as it may be, the chorus (and therefore the rest of the opera company) will move smoother without you. Furthermore, I do believe that this new job is a better fit for your skills, particularly your organization and your attention to detail. The whole of my opera house will benefit immensely from your being in this position.

Remember, we all must make sacrifices for the good of our company. And you can listen to rehearsal as much as you like—though you should be aware that maids do not attend the performances.

Forgive me if I do not exchange much communication with you; I must focus on my Christine and her success, of which you must surely be well aware.

O.G.

Bla bla, feel my wrath, bla bla, I thought.

I looked forward to dinner every night. The Girys filled me in on the chorus' progress and some gossip that the other maids might have missed, and sometimes Reyer even popped over. We talked about the musicality of pieces and the sections that were particularly fun or challenging. Dinner with my friends always meant me going to bed in better spirits. During the day, I ran around and restocked and cleaned seats like clockwork and my brain soon grew bored with no intellectual input; but every evening, with my musical colleagues, I got all the stimulation and socialization I needed (lucky me, being an introvert, I didn't need a whole lot).

You'd think that Erik would learn by now that disappearing too deep for too long is not to be done lightly! And with another opera ghost floating around, it takes even less time for things to get all topsy-turvy! When Erik hadn't seen his phangirl in the chorus, he was puzzled; when he realized she was no longer living in the ballet dormitories, he was anxious; and when he learned of her new occupation, he was furious! How dare he! How dare that other!

But when Erik thought about acting on his emotions and confronting that other, he felt cold. Eriks rarely meet or interfere with one another. The universe didn't very readily allow it. Think of how unstable one Erik could be, and then do the math: no wonder Eriks weren't usually allowed to meet. If they were braught together for a common cause or if one's emotion was powerful enough to override the instinct to stay separated (very possible with the right circumstances for Eriks), then yes, Eriks could meet. But for now, that instinct in this Erik to stay away was just too strong. The best he could do, he decided, was follow his Lauren around and provide her with protection if ever she needed it.

Lauren had been a cleaning woman for two weeks now. She was certainly very conscientious, but it was plain to see that she really disliked the phrase "you missed a spot." The other maids were gentle when notifying her of this, but some of them truly had little tact and Erik didn't like the expression on her face when someone complained dramatically about a speck of dust on an area that she had attended to or a forgotten item that had been missed on a shelf. Despite that, though, she carried on with her job and performed as well as anyone else. Even with her new job, Erik could be proud of her.

And Erik did see some major posatives here. Out of the chorus, away from the stage, Lauren seemed less stressed. There certainly seemed to be less tension among her new coworkers as opposed to her former ones. There was no fight to become a head maid; luckily, there was no encouragement to be lazy either.

Erik had watched his phangirl all day-something he was finally able to do and something he took advantage of quite readily. Now there was no other close by stalking a certain prima donna. Still, Erik stayed in the shadows to avoid any detection. Today was a really good day: nobody assumed that Lauren had done the shoddy job like they usually did. In fact, her hard work today was very much noticed.

When Mlle. DuVal did come by to check everyone's progress, the maids were all preoccupied with heads under seats or facing the floor, working on the undersides and the legs of the seats. Mlle. Duval asked if everything was going smoothly as she checked what could be seen of the seats. In response, there were muffled murmurs of "yes" and "yes ma'am."

One "Yes ma'am" came from Lauren's row. Mlle. DuVal moved up and down that row of shining red velvet and sparkling silver metal, and with a smile, she remarked, "This row in particular has been really well done. I suppose the person responsible is the one crouching under the middle seat there? No, don't get up. I see you are taking your time with your work to ensure efficiency rather than finish quickly without trying your hardest? Very admirable. I'll come back after I finish my rounds, so do stay at the end of the row so that I may see your face when you have finished."

Erik's phangirl turned her head around to face her boss as she continued to scrub a chair's hind leg. "It's me, Mlle. DuVal."

DuVal looked more than a little surprised. "Oh! Lauren! I didn't realize! Really—really splendid job, my dear!"

"Thank you, Madmoiselle."

"But how can you talk to me and keep scrubbing like that?"

"My hands are my eyes. I can clean as far back as my hands can reach, not just my head."

Erik couldn't resist…he had to break a rule. The Phantom wasn't far off, but his phangirl knew the difference in voices. As soon as DuVal moved far enough away, Erik threw his voice into his Lauren's ear, putting all his feeling into it.

"Your Erik is proud of you."

Seeing his phangirl trying to hide her smile made Erik's heart leap.

At around 7 that night, Lauren entered her little room, took her robe from a hook in her wardrobe, and went for a bath. While she was out, Erik placed a thick envelope full of braille atop her pillow. (She had a room to herself, so there was no need to hide letters. It was really a stroke of luck that there was a pivoting bit of wall leading into this room. Erik left after she had finished the letter, laid down, and closed her eyes. Erik so wanted to lean out of his hiding spot to kiss her goodnight, but he knew she would wake up, and she seemed so tired…no, he would let her sleep.

As he traversed the path back to his half of the lair beneath the opera, he had a spring in his step: he couldn't stop thinking about the letter that had been read, smiled at, and then placed under her pillow. True, she had seemed skeptical, but Erik could use his other's decisions to his advantage: the other would treat her badly; Erik would treat her right. It would take time, but they had plenty of time. Perhaps this letter would be the first of many:

My darling,

I really love listening to you singing as you work. You have learned fast and well, and you have proven yourself more than once to be willing and able, despite the stubbornness of certain higher-ups. But a rant isn't why I write to you tonight.

Your Erik is proud to have you as his phangirl. Never forget that. Today especially, you used your own abilities to your advantage. An Erik never tires of seeing someone bam-boozled! And today, I saw several people bam-boozled by you! It was just delightful.

I have been locked up with my music again, and emerged quite dissatisfied to see your change in occupation (you'd think an Erik would learn not to disappear so, especially with a second ghost in the vicinity!) I'm glad to see you adjusting nicely. I know you get very sad when you hear the music rehearsals, and I know that you're dearly (and rightly) missed by everyone in the ensembles. But you have done a truly admirable job with what has been dealt to you. I want you to know this, even if your fellow employees decide to forget to remind you.

I have been watching you, my angel, staying close to you always, and I will continue to do so. If you need anything at all, just call for me. I'll always be close by.

And for the record,Christine Daae's success could be citywide or worldwide, and this Erik would take no notice.

All my love:

Your Erik

A/N: most phan OCs jump from the bottom of the ranks to the top just to move the plot forward and get to where the author wants the story faster…I just jumped the other way LOL.


	21. Chapter 21

Mme. DuVal knocked on my door at 7 on the dot. I was ready in a half-hour since I saved my more in-depth grooming for the end of the day. Before I left, though, I touched the letter under my pillow. Even if I was majorly confused about Erik, the fact that I had a letter full of positivity gave me some hope.

Mme. DuVal was a great guide, so I could let my thoughts wander a little as we walked down to the dining hall and had breakfast. Okay, so first Erik is all "you're next," then he's like "I'm proud of you"; first the "it's best for the opera," then the "you've done so well"; first "I'm obsessed with Christine," then "I don't care about her". Uh…mood swing much?

It would make so much more sense to me if there were two Eriks. But who the heck can I trust here? Christine or Erik? Erik was convincing enough, but I don't know if the fall through the mirror tweaked him and any phan who knows an Erik knows that they can be manipulative and deceptive when they want to be, especially when there's a pretty Christine involved. But Christine, although she tried to remind me of this, totally had her reasons for getting rid of me: she was the other ally before, so was it too much to think of that same Christine as the one here, trying to pull me and my Erik apart? I had no proof that this Christine was the so-called other ally, but that would make sense. But on the other hand…she did seem genuine when she was warning me about Erik—or the Phantom—loving you and hurting you at the same time. Nobody knows an Erik's tricks more than a Christine. Was she just being selfish, or could she really have my best interests in mind?

Grrrr. Thoughts hurting brain. Let's tune into reality and distract myself from myself.

The high-school-mentality-on-steroids kind of French Victorian social attitude was something I tried not to dwell on too much. But I needed to tune in every so often just enough to know how to act and react. But to understand how to act, one must understand the rankings. Off stage, the ranking went something like: door-shutters, other maintenance people like firemen, cleaners, cookers, scene-shifters, set-builders, costume-makers; on stage, all higher than off stage, it was like this: instrumentalists, ensembles, understudies, directors, leads; then you had the management; then you had the ghost. And then you go outside the opera and you have the patrons who are actually high up for real. Only those working on stage (and the management of course) have a chance of mingling with real rich French nobility. And the higher-ups get to act however they see fit, only due to (their higher-up-ness. (A member of the ensemble perhaps promoted to head of the row would be considered higher than a costume-maker but not a rich lady; therefore, he must cader to the rich lady but may have some "authority" over the costume-maker.) Those working off stage held the same "low status" inside and outside the opera usually—you wouldn't very well see a rich man painting opera sets as his occupation!

Those higher up usually had most of the entertaining drama happen to them. The people that work behind the scenes like the cookers and cleaners still liked to gossip, but enjoyed staying out of sight of the higher drama as well. We could sit back and watch the drama. Some of us had our own drama since most of the workers in these occupations were on the poorer side, but we didn't have a lot of luxury time to fill with B-witching about that—mostly. Getting all up in arms about other people's higher-up problems knowing that they weren't our own at all was the fun part. All of the gossip and drama and none of the problematic real-life implications. Perfect.

The Comte Philippe de Chagny was the gossip topic this morning. Of course Christine's promotion had a positive effect on one of the opera's most high-paying patrons—through his brother, the Vicomte, Raoul. The Comte had been grimly satisfied to hear about Christine's promotion and had said that his brother would know as soon as he came home again (letting Raoul know too soon would certainly result in him rushing back home).

"The young Vicomte is traveling the North, on some expedition, I hear," a jovial voice was saying across the table from me. "He just recently set out, and nobody knows when he'll be back."

So that's where Raoul is, I thought.

The excited gossiper continued. "Oh, won't the vicomte be delighted to return to see his little chorus girl sweetheart has become prima donna?"

A new voice. "Now, Marie, don't talk with that tone! Christine's raising from ballet brat to prima donna is simply inspiring! Why, she almost gives an old maid like me hope of winning myself a rich nobleman!"

I never participated in these discussions—just ate my food and…listened to every word. Hey, it could be kind of entertaining!

Marie spoke again. "Oh, be realistic, Juliet! Even if the Daae girl suddenly unearthed an inheritance and a rich bloodline, you know it wouldn't be the same. No lowlife can do anything but tarnish a higher-ups reputation. Unless, of course, it is not serious. Like the Comte and La Sorelli! Now there's the ideal scenario: being seen and being able to fool around without any commitments or repercussions."

"Well, what does Daae think she's doing then, getting cozy with those kind of people and climbing society's ladder like that?"

"She knows how to charm the masses for sure," a third voice said, sounding only half-interested.

Marie's tone became bitter again. "Well, that girl really seems at home in the spotlight—like a bird preening its delicate little feathers. Attention is what she wants, I think: the attention of all of Paris. And she'll get it by flattery on top of talent. Why do you suppose she never tells how she became so good? It's so no one else can catch up to her!"

Juliet spoke up again, with the aim of calming Marie down, I thought. "But does she really aim to be another Carlotta? Or just get high enough to be able to get the Vicomte's attention?"

The third voice spoke up again. "Or perhaps she just wants to sing."

Marie sounded a little too eager when she replied. "Well, we'll soon find out, I hope. At the very least, she'll sing in the right character, unlike La Carlotta!" And then she went from sounding scornful to sounding admiring. "You can feel everything when the Daae girl sings. It's not just performing an aria—it's real!"

There was one Leroux quote that I would always remember: In Paris, "life is one masked ball." Acording to this little observation, one must be showy and dramatic to get seen while at the same time taking on a contradictory emotion for some stupid reason; oh, and suspicion and questioning alterior motives while at the same time not always hinting at one's own true colors is apparently always encouraged, going by the way Leroux's characters act. (I liked Kay's history, but Leroux's characterizations were really my favorite.) Listening to this breakfast talk was like listening to the storybook dialogue live, and my inner phangirl was lovin' it. I silently shared the other maids' opinion of Christine, of course, but for only slightly different reasons…I thought about that first day at lunch and our little conversation in the dark hallway. No black-and-white people in this universe, no matter how hard they try—only shades of gray.

But I could only take so much of this chattery gossip, and was glad when we all got up from the tables to start our day. Oh Mondays. Sunday was the only day we had off, and this meant a little harder work on Monday, so Mondays were Mondays even in this era. Nothing remarkable.

That whole week, in fact, was really almost boring. Until Friday in the afternoon. The best thing about Friday was a beautiful, glorious, magnificent, spectacular thunderstorm! I leaned against a lot of windows so I could hear the rain and see the dark overcast and look for lightning (no confusion with car lights in the late 1800s!) I passed by the chapel again only because I was wanting a quieter route back to my room and was actually thinking about doing some praying myself (I was feeling homesick and I had no idea how to understand how much longer I had here…and how it would end).

But praying at the chapel was forgotten when I heard that there was another lesson going on in there. They really fit together vocally very well, I thought. I listened to the lesson for awhile and was secretly enjoying and learning soon enough. I flashed back to my own private voice lessons in college as part of my major and thought about the choirs back there and the chorus here. Music teaching and learning hadn't changed much as far as the basic principles. I let myself fall deeper and deeper into the music haze and started to get that giddy little phangirl feeling: I WAS HERE! I WAS HERE IN THE OPERA HOUSE, LISTENING TO ANOTHER LESSON! And I knew where I stood in this world now. And I had that ridiculous phangirl hope of unwraveling the mystery that was Erik…but I had him unwraveled before I came, so did that mean I had some kind of advantage now, even if I wasn't sure where Erik stood? Maybe understanding the interaction between Christine and the Phantom would help. So I refocused.

"Remember, my darling Christine, bring your sound forward. Your breath support is simply magnificent, but moving the sound into your sinuses will help even those unfortunate people at the back hear that pure, lovely voice of yours. They must get there money's worth, remember."

I couldn't decide whether or not I liked Erik's Angel of Music voice: he sounded beautiful and atherial and hypnotizing, but there was also some weird listlessness and a sort of intoxicated tone in there, too, that made me uneasy. This was the Phantom on a Christine high. I was almost scared to think of what LerouxErik would sound like when he was flying off the handle.

"Yes, angel," Christine said obediently. "I vow this to you: I shall try harder than ever before to succeed. After all this time…I am there…I am where I always dreamed I would be!"

"Yes, my Christine. You are the queen of the opera house at last."

"And it is everything I dreamed it would be and more. I am now truly happy. I feel secure…like I am finally fulfilling my father's dreams. And everyone—all the support I am getting! Why, I felt that somehow…I know it sounds silly…I felt as though it was all false in some way. But now, with the whole house's admiration, I know I am truly where I deserve to be!"

Yeah, yeah, yeah; live it up, I thought. Everyone acts all nice and kind to your pretty face, but not everyone is so sweet behind your back!

"Oh, Christine. You are indeed where you truly deserve to be. And every night, even each day—every time you sing, my dear, this angel sores! With your beauty and your talent, there is no reason why the whole of the world should not grovel at your feet! And as long as you are on this Earth, this angel will follow; and on the unfortunate day for the Earth when you leave, I shall wait for you in heaven!"

Grrrrr…clinging to the two-Eriks-thing superhard right now. That two separate Eriks thing better be true…otherwise I feel really screwed. But now that I think about it, the two voices seem to be blending together…

Erik had been following Lauren around and…neglecting his music. Finding a balance is hard, all right? There are two very tempting intoxicaters now, Lauren and music, and if Erik was the only ghost then it would definitely be easier to keep both of them and stay strong. But there are two ghosts. And one of them is currently drooling over Christine while this Erik stands just behind a stupid wall pannel. Grrrrr. Why, Christine? Why? That girl and her stupid siren's voice… And what the crap is the Phantom doing to Lauren? He must know she is listening. Why the crap is she still listening? Erik will go to her afterword and they'll laugh about this love fest together…this is just insane. Yes, it could be very believable, but Erik is Lauren's now; Christine can have her little ghost slave, but Erik belongs to Lauren! But Erik can't just jump out and take Lauren away because the other might hear him. He must wait…he must wait and go to her in her room after, and there he can explain everything: about the mirror, the wall of faux light, the reflection and its rules, and the so-called other ally…and she will help herself and him and Nadir get back to her universe and away from Christine. Erik can not imagine what Christine could be planning for his Lauren if she is so determined to have him back…

"And my dreams coming true…it is all because of you, mon Ange de Musique," Christine purred. "You are the reason…I would have been nothing without you."

"Oh, Christine!" the "angel" practically moaned.

Gross.

Thunder. I thought about the last time I heard a thunder like that: bum-badaBOOM-babum-rumble: when Erik was humming possible Shel Silverstein melodies. Maybe my Erik remembered that too, and maybe he was less scared of storms now?

Christine sure wanted to sound scared. "Oh I hate lightning! I despise thunder! It always scares me awake at night! I know rain is necisary for the plants to grow, but why must we have lightning and thunder, angel?"

The angel fell for it (Surprise, surprise.) "O my dear, sweet girl, don't you be frightened! The lightning cannot hurt you unless you hold something metal up high outside. You have nothing to fear from it. And the thunder is nothing more than a sound. It can not harm you at all!"

"But why have it exist if nobody likes it?"

"On the contrary, child. I once knew someone who quite loved the sound of thunder. Strange indeed, isn't it? That wasn't the only thing strange about her…but she does not matter now."

Okay, that hurt. I don't matter? I'm "strange"? Boo you ho—I mean ghost. But the thunder thing…that was just between me and Erik…maybe there's not two separate Eriks after all? No. No. I shall not question this before I talk to my Erik myself. I'll give him a chance to explain at least. I know they're connected, I'm just not sure how. But if he's really just one Erik with a big identity problem…is there any chance for me?

No…no…no! Why did that Erik have to be connected to him? Erik was relying on the moments between him and his phangirl to sway her! What if this Phantom tells Christine all of his Lauren's weaknesses and gives Christine the tools she needs to hurt Lauren? Stop, Erik; don't get carried away…you know what could happen then. All right, no matter: Erik has other ways to keep his Lauren. He has Nadir; he has music; he has his voice, if need be; and he has history with his phangirl…it has been almost five years since she really heard his story, after all. And, if the worst does happen, he has adaptations across many mediums to follow her. Even if he has to traverse universes himself to return to her, he would do it without a second thought.

"But, angel," Christine was saying, "there is still something I don't understand about my new life here. I do everything I can to be loved by everyone, so that I am not a Carlotta. I give sweets to the little girls of the ballet. I help the elderly workers from time to time. I treat everyone with the utmost kindness and extend a hand to those who are less fortunate…and almost everyone is accepting…but there are still some who do not treat me the way I deserve—after all I've been through, especially considering my new status."

Give me a freakin break. Screw it: I'm taking Erik back from you, B-witch.

"Oh my Christine. Tell me…tell me who they are so that I shall set them right!"

"It is her…Lauren."

And by "those" she means just one. Please don't tell me she's purposely trying to get Erik to go after me. Okay…I am just a little afraid now…

Try to destroy what an Erik loves, and the Erik will have no mercy on you…he better not. If he goes after Lauren…the battle of the Eriks shall begin!

"Ah, her again," the angel said with a hint of…hostility? Crap. "Well…perhaps she is not all bad. At least she does her job efficiently. And, I'll admit, her outsmarting Mme. DuVal was quite amusing."

Oh! Brownie points with the ghost! Boom!

"Erik…though I am surely not your first love…am I not your true love? Do you still think of her? Every so often, does she creep into your dreams?" Oh…jealous Christine. And you thought Erik could be possessive.

Well, it started off with him creeping into my dreams, actually. It started off very calm, just another someone interested in his story. But sooner or later, the phangirl does attack…mwahahahahaha!

Oh yes, Christine…every night, Lauren is in his dreams! Lauren who granted his heart's deepest wishes…heart wishes that you yourself could never understand.

"I insist," the angel stated firmly. "She does not matter right now."

So does this mean I can have some hope or…is he gone?

"I know that you are loyal to only me, but she seems to think…"

"My dear, darling Christine. That silly little phangirl means nothing and is truly nothing when compared to you. You are my only one…o so pretty, o so talented, o so perfect. She could never hope to compete with you."

"So you do truly choose me over her?"

"Of course! A thousand times!"

That was the final nail in the coffin that turned me off: Erik a slave to Christine, even denying me at her request. Stick a fork in me: I think I'm done. Thinking about what Christine told me about bowndries and instability, I was now certain: this guy just wants everyone and everything and doesn't care if he destroys. He just wanted to get me out of the way so he could go back to her… If she wasn't here, he would still be mine… I should have known better than to try to woo an Erik with a Christine around. By the time I'd made it back to my room, I was barely just keeping my composure. I wasn't sure if I was feeling angry or sad or frustrated or resentful or stupid for thinking I could successfully have a relationship with a fictional character who had a love interest.

Erik was focusing very hard on his breathing, and was actually grateful that the Punjab lasso was down in the torture chamber. That did not just happen. It seems that Christine has gone leaps farther in discouraging phangirls. She never liked phangirls. And now Christine, his Christine, was endangering his Lauren. But why? Christine just wanted to get Lauren out of the way and go back to him…but why not this Erik? Why try so hard to hold onto the Phantom when Christine's Erik was here too? Was it so Erik could see it all and be tortured? And where did that Phantom even come from? Was Erik supposed to be jealous of the Phantom and try to win Christine back? Hah!

None of that matters now…there's a phangirl that needs holding onto. And so Erik high-tailed it to Lauren's room. And there he found her, looking deflated as she attempted to swallow her tears. Erik burst out of the wall pivot and let out an angry breath, partly to try to calm himself and partly to let Lauren know where and who he was.

"How dare they!" Erik growled.

"They?" Lauren croaked. "You were just drooling over Christine and now you're all angry?"

"That was not me! That was the other!" Oh…Christine had doomed him!

"Explain."

"There are two Eriks, due to the distorted reflection, like I told you before. In the lair, there is a wall of false light that looks like a…window or a mirror between our two halves. I know not whether the other knows of me, so I avoid him at all costs—think of what would happen with two Eriks, two angels, two ghosts in one opera house and both aware of the other! There can not be two separate Eriks easily, so one is always stronger than the other. Our strength comes from our music. The other has his organ, and he can rule over the whole house; I have my violin and my voice, and that is enough to watch over you. I have an organ, too, that I play—the halves of the lair are quite symmetrical—but the other has already built up his strength thanks to time and Christine, so myself replacing him would be quite an ennormous task.

"So the dominance thing. That's why you're never around when the Phantom's up to his tricks? And the Phantom's never around when you're here?"

"Yes. We avoid each other intentionally. We cannot casually meet."

"And you haven't tried to take over because…?"

"We can not interfere with one another! When I am down below turning to my music for strength, he works; when he is wrapped up with Christine, I work. And until I can find a way to break that confounded wall of faux light, we can do nothing about it!" It's the truth…it's the truth…why isn't the truth in his favor now? Murphy's freaking Law.

Lauren's face remained blank, and although she aimed for a detached tone of voice, her voice still held the slightest tremor. "So we're stuck? To quote a favorite movie of mine, 'we're just stuck in this suck-fess?' This is too much. I don't know how much longer I can take this, Erik."

Erik was desperate now. He lunged forward and clutched at Lauren's hands, finding himself on his knees in front of her as she stood. "No! No, you can't go back! If you no longer call yourself a phan, you disappear! And your Erik ceases to exist! Please…please don't."" He brought her hands to his heart. "You, my angel, you keep this heart beating. That imbecilic other can have his diva, but I wish to keep my angel!"

The blank face fell away, and Lauren looked truly lost. "So what happens now?"

Even the rain had stopped falling—Earth itself was waiting for an answer. And Erik had one. He rose, led Lauren over to her bed, held her in his arms, and sang.

(A)

"I chose you. I saw your world and then I chose to stay.

You gave to me all I could hope for; she left me betrayed.

She called to me and fed my fantacies, but left me with a shattered dream

But you give to me my heaven. I don't want Christine.

(B)

With his music, Erik will get stronger;

For your sake, he'll overtake that other.

Let them separate us, trick us or berate us!

Mercy only comes from God above!

An Erik shall let no one hurt his love!

(A)

I chose you. I saw your world and then I chose to stay.

You gave to me all I could hope for; she left me betrayed.

She called to me and fed my fantacies, but left me with a shattered dream

But you give to me my heaven. I don't want Christine.

(C)

You know all that is my tragic story.

You reached out and gave your love to me.

And you knew Eriks deserve second chances

Give me one for now and you shall see,

Lauren, I love you totally.

(A)

I chose you. I saw your world and then I chose to stay.

You gave to me all I could hope for; she left me betrayed.

She called to me and fed my fantacies, but left me with a shattered dream

But you give to me my heaven. I don't want Christine.

(B)

With his music, Erik will get stronger;

For your sake, he'll overtake that other.

Let them separate us, trick us or berate us!

Mercy only comes from God above!

An Erik shall let no one hurt his love!

(A)

I chose you. I saw your world and then I chose to stay.

You gave to me all I could hope for; she left me betrayed.

She called to me and fed my fantacies, but left me with a shattered dream

But you give to me my heaven. I don't want Christine."

Having finished his song, Erik disentangled himself from his phangirl and gently kissed her lips before leaving through the wall panel. Yes, Erik had let his voice free and allowed it to persuade Lauren as well as the words it formed. But this persuasive song was for good reason…Lauren must stay here. Erik would not go on living if she disappeared. It was like finally grabbing hold of one's very own opium pipe only for it to begin to crack and threaten to shatter. If Lauren went away…Erik would rely on the Punjab lasso once again, though not for snapping the neck of another.

For the moment, though, Erik had a different mission in mind. Back in the bowels of the opera, he dressed for bed, played a concerto on his violin and a fugue on his organ and then a lullaby on the violin, and laid down for a full night's sleep. He would need it. In the morning, he played the violin, ate, played the organ, got dressed, sang a capella, concealed a weapon or two in his best Phantom clothes, and then sang and played his instruments at the same time. He would need every kind of strength now.

And around midday, Erik stood at the wall of false light, candlestick in hand. With a deep breath, he swung hard. It was time to break down that wall. It was time to confront the reflection.

The false light fell away, the Phantom turned from his opera of Don Juan Triumphant, and the two Eriks stared at each other for a minute.

Finally, Erik spoke. "I am only here to speak with you, not to harm you. Do not feel threatened by the phangirl. She is mine. You can have Christine and I will take the phangirl off your hands."

The Phantom replied, only slightly less calm. "That is not my intent, idiot. Phangirls should not be allowed to thrust themselves into our worlds. Eriks love their Christines, and that's that. I am simply trying to remind this silly girl of that fact."

Erik sighed. "To each their own…"

The Phantom's metaphorical mask began to slip. He stood from the bench and advanced toward Erik. "Be rid of your phangirl's influence! Our story is meant to be read and lamented properly, not tampered with and synthetically sweetened like this! Phangirls are like poorly made wine or a badly tuned instrument when compared with Christine!"

"Never! You can take your little Christine and make your own story, but stay out of mine. This Erik is happily unashamed of his love for his phangirl. She believed in Erik's redemption and humanity…and you know as well as I do that an Erik can not turn that away."

"You may have given up on Christine, but I have not. An Erik does not let anything or anyone stand in his way. You know that. And there are poor, unfortunate souls standing in mine."

"And you, my fellow Erik, should remember: threatening something or someone loved by an Erik unleashes an Erik's wrath."

The Phantom smirked as he silently walked back to his organ bench. "Having more than one Erik in a story can get quite confusing, don't you think? There really should only be one Erik here. Now which one of us should that be?"

And the Phantom began to thunderously play.

It was really too bad that he couldn't be killed. Trying to kill your other only severely weakens them, so just wait it out and eventually you'll absorb them, no matter how hard they pull. He lifted the other Erik easily and deposited him in his coffin before going back to his Don Juan. Now he had total control over that idiot phangirl. And he knew that convincing her to leave of her own free will would mean that she is no longer his concern at all. Losing one phan won't be too terribly bad…there are so many others. Others who give him his Christine…his Christine who is perfect and could do no wrong…

You can't completely escape drama in high school, even if you're the nerd at the bottom of the stereotypical chain who eats in the closet and tries your hardest to stay out of everyone's way. You can't avoid it in late-eighteenth-century France, either, apparently. Juicy gossip is what people like when life itself gets too boring and they don't have exciting things like reality TV or film dramas to watch. The Ballet girls, in particular, liked gossip. I heard it from all over, but from the girls the most when I was running around between lunch and dinner. Their dorms were thin-walled and they weren't too, too far from the little supply storage closet closest to my room.

So first I tried to ignore it. And at first it was easy to do that. Mostly dumb stuff like handsome stagehands and coveted jewels—well, the all-too-important way they talked about it all made it seem ridiculous to me. As for the topic of me (I popped up every so often)I was still the "uncivilized and uneducated disabled woman", but that was just the times talking; when I heard something like, "Isn't it grand that even a place such as this is not above a little charity? I mean, why else would they keep her?" I could easily chalk it up to just another young person trying to sound all smart and relevant by spouting something she heard somewhere else. Immaturity, I told myself; immaturity and ignorance. And maybe thinking like that would make me seem arrogant here, but so what? I was already being avoided by people who weren't my close colleagues. And when I ran into a patron one day and was polite to him, working around him and begging pardon, I had a good laugh when there were whispers about how I had to be resourceful in getting some because I "should never expect to get anywhere often with more than pity considering my disability." Even I found gossip about me entertaining! Sometimes. Just sometimes.

One thing I picked up from the whispers that I found significant: The girls all seemed to revolve around Christine; Carlotta had a tiny possie, but Christine had the whole girls chorus and they were only more than happy to be just under her. Basically, Christine was a Kardashian to all these eager wannabes. (A/N I did not spellcheck that name and I can't bring myself to care.) They talked about what she wore; what she said; what she ate; her clothes; her makeup; her hair; her voice; her technique; her suspected life outside of rehearsal. They freaking worshipped her, and she seemed to like it. I heard her sometimes, visiting in there with them, talking and giggling and sighing along and trying to act humble.

Sometimes, after lunch and before her lessons, Christine would find me. It had been some time since the overheard lesson, and I hadn't seen Erik, but the Phantom hadn't done anything major, so I assumed there wasn't cause for alarm. And Christine…honestly, she was starting to convince me that she could maybe possibly be likable. I didn't react when she talked about her angel, and she seemed to take that as me backing off. She wandered around with me, guiding me and asking questions and throwing in some flattery here and there (I guess she thought that could get her passes if she ever crossed a line). We were both acting the polite, friendly, and curious colleague; but it started to feel a tad less like acting. Just a tad. Erik was working on his other, Christine wasn't making any aggressive moves, maybe I could relax just a little?

But one day, my suspicions about Christine were clarified. It started small. We were walking through a quiet space, and Christine very casually said, "You're so organized and miticulous. This job really suits you much better than being in the chorus. Isn't cleaning much more relaxing and easier to learn than song and dance?

Oh I see…sprinkling salt in the wound disguised as sugar. Hit me where it hurts. I'd always had my guard up, even though I trusted her at least as a sighted guide now. She just had this vibe…this total mean-girl-wearing-angel's-mask vibe going on.

But I'd better not pull a Lloyd-Webber-Christine and rip off the mask. Act casual. "I miss it, actually," I said. "I love music. I miss being surrounded by it."

"And you miss being closer to the story's characters," Christine said with a laugh. She'd grown really comfortable about my being a phangirl, it seemed, as long as I wasn't threatening her story.

"Well…yes. Yes, I do." I could feel me smiling unapoligetically.

"Closer to Meg, closer to myself…and perhaps in the long term, closer to the ghost?"

"What?"

"Well, I'd think you'd want to start from the bottom and try to earn his love after you lost your ring. You know Eriks don't like it when their girls lose their rings." And she took my hand and traced her own ring with my finger.

But I noticed something: the band was wide with a crack around it all the way through the middle. I rubbed harder and the bands split and clinked. There were two rings on her finger, and neither of those were engagement rings.

She wore two rings. She knew I'd lost mine. She must have known that Erik gave me one for her to know I lost it. "You took the ring?" I asked in disbelief.

"Mm-hmm," she said. "I have your ring, and you have my Erik. But not for long. You should never turn an Erik against a Christine. Christines can fight back too, you know. My fighting back started, in case you forgot, in…where was it…Chapter 11."

So now her mask had come off and I knew exactly who she was: the other "ally". My gut was right. But I didn't have to lay down and take this. "The phangirl is the author here, girlie," I reminded her. "And in case you forgot, Erik came back to me. He chose me."

Christine's voice got low and deliberate. "Well," you'll find I can be very…persuasive when it comes to mon ange de musique."

And I got that way-too-cocky feeling that only comes along in fiction, and I said: "Bring it. Our love is real love; not infatuation; not a mutual love of music; not out of pity or longing; real, genuine, heart-to-heart love."

And the only way I can describe what happened next is this way: Christine exploded. "You are not in love with him; you are in love with his tragic story. And he is not in love with you; he is in love with being wanted. The two of you are not in love with each other!"

"Yes, I loved his story. And yes, he wants to be wanted. But you have Raoul! And you clearly have another Erik, so you have two guys right there! That's one more than me already!"

"Ah-ah-ah, are you quite sure there are two Eriks?" And I could hear the smirk at her next words: "Can you prove it?"

I was silent, and she led me out into civilization again, still playing her part of the opera's perfect princess.

At dinner that night with the Girys, Meg started to talk about Christine. "Christine told us about a scandalous maid today," she began eagerly.

"Now, Meg," her mother began calmly. "I know how much all of you admire the girl, but you needn't parrot her like this."

"Maman, I'm not parroting."

Madame Giry sighed.

Meg continued. "Well, anyway, she said that the maid who tried to seduce Phillippe the other day was one of the same maids who was recently taken in from the asylum for the disabled."

"I hadn't heard they started taking on people like that," Madame murmured.

"I hadn't either. But Christine was delighted about it. She was so touched that even a place as grand as this isn't above charity. And then, well, we learned that one of them was the same one who is trying to seduce that patron by working near him."

And I know exactly who she's talking about, I realized.

I was the only "disabled" worker in the entire opera. I'd run into the patron several times and he'd never told me his name, but I told Mme. DuVal honestly that nothing was happening there. Christine had used drama and twisting of words and juicy gossip to her advantage to make it look like I was some kind of promiscuous horndog. She knew she was looked up to as a model, so she took care to paint me as the uncivilized and uneducated disabled woman. But she made sure I was the only one who would know that I was her subject here.

Christine has gone mean-girl.

"I don't feel good," I said, and excused myself, leaving a half-finished meal behind.

I laid awake for a long time that night, feeling sad about this mean Christine and missing my Erik.

Where the heck was my Erik? I missed him. I missed what he used to be. He was my phangirlified, whatever-I-wished-him-to-beErik, yes, but he was a friend and a shoulder to lean on and someone who could chase away fears and encourage me to keep going and…well, he knew how to give me the feels. I missed him. And I had no way of knowing if the ghost was him at all. And…what if my Erik didn't dominate after all, and the other with his antiphan, blinded-by-Christine-loving ways was the only Erik now? I didn't love the story or the characters because of the potential EC relationship; I loved Erik. I loved him and I wanted him back. I loved the stories, I loved the characters, and I loved that I had a chance to give an Erik something real after I discovered that website 3 years ago And that he accepted that chance from me.

So I can't give up, I decided: here is my chance to live in the POTO world at least, and take a whack at taking E/C down at most (especially with this Christine!) And so I fell asleep to the memory of Erik singing, "Give me one for now and you shall se, / Lauren, I love you totally."

Her Erik was very, very weak. Lifting up his arms took the greatest of efforts. Sitting up was out of the question. His voice barely reached above a whisper.

But he could tap rhythms with his fingers on his leg and whisper songs to the empty room.

He closed his eyes and lay still when his other came in every so often to check that he was still there. This Erik could not fade completely, or the phangirl would find out that her Erik was gone, and the Phantom's plan would be ruined. The Phantom—and really, Christine too—wanted Lauren to leave of her own free will; wanted her believing that the Erik she dreamed of had turned into a far-too-realistic nightmare. This Erik could not disappear-he had to be absorbed over time.

Oh, Erik wanted to laugh: a living corpse, once again; though, this time, with a secret: real love and music and hope kept the heart and lungs working. Thanks to his beloved phangirl, Erik had felt real love. And he had given it. He had received it and given it and felt it both ways. He would not let her go easily…in fact, not at all.

Maybe Nadir would find him in here and help him with his violin. That would build up his strength. And Nadir was Erik's, not the Phantom's.

And, perhaps most important: he could feel his phangirl and her love and her hope to get him back, just as he felt it in the past when she read a Phantom book or listened to a Phantom song. She had hope…she still had hope…his Lauren still loved him! What reason is there to give into death when you know your loved and needed by another?

And that other could never win while the phangirl had hope.

A/N:

I don't own the movie "Freaky Friday," which is where the movie quote comes from. (The later version with Lindsay Lohan, FYI.)

I feel like I shouldn't be having this much fun writing a mean Christine. Oh well.

So next chapter we have some interactions between me and the bad Erik. Any suggestions? I'm confident writing fluffy Erik; not so much evil Erik. Hint; at some point, I end up in the lair.

You can skim the rest of this A/N if you aren't into the technicalities of musical form. I just want to explain how I made Erik's aria here.

Structure: Rondo form: ABACABAA'

Rond`o = late eighteenth century Italian opera, Mozart wrote many great examples (and I think of Erik as a possible Mozart fan as well as a Bach fan). But Erik chose the musical refrain form (r`ondo) and wanted it in form but not in character (AKA slower and more legato not fast and upbeat). As much his decision as mine lol. The musical form was easier for me to work with than the operatic aria form for some reason. Also, when phantomoftheopera. com was a forum for phans, someone wrote a little essay that suggested that Erik liked symphonic pieces more than he liked opera because the original DJT wasn't an opera but an instrumental piece and that caught my attention. That site has vanished, though, so I can't go back and cite the work, and that makes me very sad because that was one fun phansite!

Song segments/Keys:

Asection: to the tune of the A section of "Think of Me," in the tonic key

B section: to the tune of the A section of "Music of the Night," in the dominant key

C section: to the tune of the refrain of "All I Ask of You," in the subdominant key

It took forever to figure this all out!So blame that for the wait for this update if you like. But I'm ridiculously proud of it!


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: I just watched a favorite movie again: The Parent Trap (90s version). I swear, Meredith Blake from that movie as well as Stacey Hinkhouse from Freaky Friday are super inspirations for my mean Christine. Sweet on the outside, sour when you get to know them.

So I went back and reread some chapters of this because…I don't know, I do that when my ideas are running dry. And I realized I totally said "POTO Original Motion Picture Playlist on Pandora" instead of Motion Picture Station but I'm too lazy to go and upload a doc just to change that one word. Ugh.

I also read two very good stories full of helpful guidelines about writing phanfic: "Meg Giry is Not an Alto" and "Mary SueIs Not an Energizer Bunny" by Britomartis.

But of course, I read those fics and then I start critiquing myself. I'm realizing now that I could have worked in more phanfic tropes so far if I wanted, and that I had more than a few golden opportunities to unleash the nerdy music major that lurks in the corners of my mind, but I didn't. Oh well. I'll make more opportunities later. Honestly, as important and wonderful as guidelines or dos/don'ts can be, if you're not enjoying your writing, it's gonna be just crappy at some point. So I'm just going to enjoy this, from the ridiculous phangirl phantasies to the plotholes and the grammar flubs and the continuity errors. .

My muse showered me with confetti as I worked on this chapter. Enjoy.

Stupid letter. Stupid, stupid letter.

To the Phangirl:

I understand that you have done very well in your new position. This pleases me. Clearly my decision to modify your duties in this opera house was the right one.

I also noticed that you have been treating my Christine with a level of civility and respect that is…almost proper. A wise choice. A wiser choice would be to give her no less than she clearly deserves.

I write to you now to inform you of the latest happenings below ground, as I'm sure you would be interested in as a phangirl. I do hope, for your own sake, that you have not allowed your phantasies to make you delusional. You see, first, there is simply no way for two Eriks to coexist. Therefore, the stronger personality must take his place as dominant and absorb the weaker. This has finally been accomplished. Secondly, trying to take an Erik's love from a Christine is both preposterous and futile. The story and its characters are classics for a reason and should not be tainted. You are indeed lucky that I've let you stay this long.

And so I reiterate my demands to you from my first letter: follow my instructions, treat my Christine properly, and waste no time trying to influence my story or the characters herein. Christine and I are the only ones who know of your true origin, and that is how it shall stay. Be mindful of your status during my time period as a woman, as a worker, and as a disabled person. Do your job well, and you may become a mentioned character in our story—one of the kind yet lesser workers who is blessed with Christine's presence. Fail to respect my authority, however, and you may find yourself expelled.

O.G.

I blew my nose on the stupid letter.

Of course, I would be caucious (nobody wants to tempt the Punjab) but now my Erik was basically gone for real. So there were two—personalities at least, anyway. I didn't know if there were two physical Eriks, since I'd never encountered the "bad Erik," only got notes and pranks from him and heard his voice some; I didn't know if Erik had two personalities inside him or if there had been two ghosts running around. Regardless, I knew for a fact that my Erik really was an antiphan Erik now.

I dropped the letter into the trash bin under my bed. Today was my day off, and it was going just fine until I'd come home late afternoon to find that piece of paper full of sharp little braille dots on my pillow. Ugh. Why? I'm trying to do my best here—actually trying. And not that the ghost would want to take off his Christine-colored glasses, but his perfect opera princess is my biggest obstacle on top of everything else. And she knows it and he doesn't!

But there was still an opera house to take advantage of: rehearsals to listen to and follow along, live music to listen to, flashbacks to music history courses taken in college to be had ("Miss Daae, simply splendid **recitative**! And your **aria** —divine!"), French Victorian history and gossip to learn about. Even if I had to obey a crazy ghost and cater to a prima donna in an orphan's clothing-

My inner monologue as well as my air supply were cut off by a freezing hand with long, bony fingers. Oh yeah…the wall panel…oops.

"OK, I'm sorry I blew my nose," I rasped.

Erik just grabbed me around the waist and started to drag me toward the opening. He was talking to himself. "Christine is impatient with Lauren. Lauren is far too optimistic about things. Lauren doesn't play like Erik or Christine want her to. Christine is dissatisfied, and so so is Erik!"

Wow. I'm truly really scared now. Here, dear readers, was the reason I admit to so shamelessly tweaking my Erik's character and why I am aware that my tweaking could never be satisfactory: Erik is both complex and crazy. A purely Lerroux or Kay Erik would have Antisocial Personality Disorder or Borderline Personality Disorder or something similar; a Lloyd Webber Erik would be only less unstable; a Yeston/Koppit/Dance Erik would be tamest, I guess, though even they have their moments; and so on and so forth. But I had no idea who this one was modeled after…I just knew I didn't like him. Only one guarantee with Eriks: their unpredictability.

Erik had let go of my throat just a little, but was still dragging me by the waist through the cellars. "An Erik can not kill an Erik. Not quite. But he can not kill a phangirl either, can he? No. Perhaps…perhaps. But Christine has already spun the cover story for above ground, so Erik can not leave Lauren's body up there. But he should not kill her…no."

Oh crap. Is this really happening?

"He shall just convince her to leave. He shall make her favorite story into hell, make her suffer the way she has forgotten Eriks must suffer, and maybe then she will understand. And besides that, she is competition for Christine. There can be no competition for Christine!"

Christine's face was above the coffin. "Erik? I know you can not move. Just relax, angel."

What was she doing here? Why was she talking in that tone? Something was wrong. What was wrong?

"I must tell you, Erik. Your other has…well, he is sending Lauren back to her world. She can not come back after that because her ring was lost."

"What…what was he to do now? Without her, the phandom itself was out of reach. Who would give him happiness if his phangirl could not?

"Oh, Erik. Don't you see? Phangirls never bode well. All they do is tangle things up. I am here for you, Erik. I am here for your music. I am offering myself to you. Accept the other, let her go, and we can live."

Looking up, she saw that the other had entered upon hearing his angel's voice. Christine smiled and beckoned him over and then joined their two hands. And then she began with a scale…another…then an easy art song…a short aria…music is the tie that binds, her father had told her. Now the two Eriks could bind.

Sitting next to the empty coffin, Erik gazed up at Christine. "My dear, I do love your surprises, but I must insist that you go enjoy your Sunday."

"But I enjoy being with you."

Erik seemed to melt. "Oh, my angel…my one ray of light, how your Erik wishes to glue himself to your side! But, my darling, there are things I must take care of today. Please…let your Erik finish what you helped him to start."

Christine sighed. "Oh, all right." And she tenderly took his left hand in hers and kissed it with pouty lips before departing.

Erik gazed after his angel for a moment before retracing his steps back to the holding cell—uh, guest room. The previous guest room had become his Christine's permanent room here, and he couldn't easily build a whole other guest room, so a simpler arrangement would have to do. He entered the almost bare room, with a cot and a bin and a crude desk. The phangirl was sitting upright on the cot where he'd left her, hands folded obediently and expression anxious. Good. She was already showing signs of good behavior.

Erik didn't bother to approach her. "My Christine has spread the word that you have been sent away. You are no longer expected to be seen in or around the opera house. You will be fed once a day, so be sure to make it last. I will allow you five books to read, and no more than that, so choose wisely. You may listen to the music I play all you like, though I claim no responsibility for its effects on you, and I do not expect my musical schedule to cater to your liking. The chamber pot is under the desk, and I shall empty it once a day or whenever I see fit. You have three outfits at the end of your cot, outfits that Christine no longer wants; your laundry will be done once every two weeks or so. Speaking of my Christine, when she is in my home, we are not to be disturbed unless you do not mind losing your life. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Life got really boring and stale for me after that. Not much detail to write here, really. Erik interacted with me only when necisary and as briefly as possible. He was determined to convince me that I was nothing more than a phangirl hostage; the silly child with a crush who thought I could shape Erik into something I could love, who forgot Erik's complexity and tragedy and monstrosity, who chose not to see, who must re-learn and re-remember. Well, I got plenty of chances to revisit the insanity—anyone who's read Lerroux and/or Kay will have an idea of what goes on when Erik is home alone. This one liked playing music and talking to himself mostly. Interspersed with mutterings about the managers and opera company and an occasional graphic fantasy of homosidal rage, he talked about Christine a lot: Christine, his muse and his love and his priority; so sweet with Meg and the other girls, so kind to the workers, so adorable and young and pure and innocent, so talented and lovely, so willing to offer her voice to him, so perfect to satisfy his longing for love, so…so…let's just say that seeing this side of the E/C relationship could get really creepy, okay?

I had Frankenstein and a book of Poe that I skimmed almost regularly; I had Hugo's Les Mis and the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and I didn't touch those books much because they made me sad, but I refused to give them up, so Erik would only get me one more—I chose Pride and Prejudice. I loved to read when Erik was playing music. And despite all his efforts, I was still fascinated by Erik (morbid fascination is still fascination, right?) I just learned how to hide my phangirliness. When Christine was here, I listened to the lessons and wrote down a lot of notes with the slate and stylus that I'd eventually pestered Erik to get for me. (Surprising, really, but I did take advantage of a particularly good Erik mood and the aftermath of a Christine high). I hid the notes between the pages of my books, along with my own journaling about the dreams I had at night and my…secret phangirliness in written form.

After some time (it was really hard to tell time down there), We got a visitor. A visitor who would be my ticket to answered questions and freedom just like he would be for Raoul and Christine: our daroga.

When I opened my door a crack, not far enough for it to start creaking, and stuck my forehead to the crack, I could listen to what was going on in Erik's parlor. This is how I listened to music lessons, and when there was the right kind of long crescendo, I could take a chance and push the door open all the way. As long as I didn't show myself, Erik was okay. One day, I heard two male voices instead of one male and one female, and when I recognized Nadir's voice, I really had to try to be quiet because being quiet is just not at all easy when you're excited.

I knew Nadir wouldn't treat me like a pet or an animal the way this Erik had. Nadir would also probably have some idea of how I could get to Erik. I didn't want to believe that my phangirlified Erik was gone forever, never to be reached or touched again. Maybe Nadir would help me? The only way I'd accept that my Erik was no more was if the daroga himself told me.

But how the crap would I get to talk to Nadir?

"Lauren?"

I tossed Frankenstein aside and jumped up. "Nadir! What are you doing here? Erik'll kill you if he sees you found me."

"He's gone shopping for Christine. Apparently she plans to take a vacation down here. Though, if you ask me, it's only a reason for the two of them to fall farther under each other's spell, But Anyway, that's why I'm here: give me your hand. Do you know what this is?"

"A wedding band on your pinky?"

"And its significance? Come on, you know this one! You had one, silly!"

And then it clicked. "Rings! You have one too, like Erik said! You're the you from before!"

Nadir's tone turned skeptical. "Why didn't you believe Erik when he told you?"

"Well, Christine said…"

"Aha! I knew that girl was trouble!"

"Okay, daroga." I tried not to laugh as I steered him back on track. "So you are just you because your reflection wasn't sliced down the middle or something?"

"Yes. There was one of me and two of them. Erik's reflection was cut in half, like he said. We all have many sides, and so many 'others'. It's lucky that Erik was only cut in half, don't you think? This other is just half of the reflection, and this half has the 'light' right now." (A/N reference to the movie Split, , don't own it)

"Yeah…we'd all be dead if there was an Erik army running around or something. So how do we get my Erik to be the stronger one?"

"Well…not with light, actually. This is all coming from your mind, remember. How do you see?"

"Sound."

Now Nadir's tone was cunning. "And sound for you functions as sound and light combined for those of us with sight, so sound has far more power for you than for another. And the most powerful sound is…?"

And now I felt cunning too. "Music."

Erik was composing. As secretive as that man tries to be, when he forgets he's not alone, he thinks everything out loud. At least this one did. "Christine is coming. My Christine is coming. I should have a ballad for her, to welcome her." Erik worked nonstop, and neither of us ate or slept for (maybe) five days.

I can go probably too long without eating, so I lasted two days with one rationed meal and then…a day with nothing, and next day I didn't feel too hot, so the last threeish days I didn't even sit up. I was dehydrated too, and even though the chamber pot hadn't been emptied in several days, there was nothing coming out of me anyway. Books were too hard to read. My mind was blah. The ballad was finished on that fourth (or fifth?) day and Erik came in after.

"I hope you've been doing well." Liar. "Get up. I have your laundry and I must wash the clothes that you wear. Well? Up, girl!"

"Okay, okay." Sit up. Too fast. Stand up. Nope. Face plant.

"What—what is wrong with you?"

"Haven't eaten…two days…need water…feel dizzy…"

"Fine." Erik picked me up and put me back on my cot. "I'll feed you and when your strength is back, you may get dressed." I could still hear him whisper as he left the room, "Animals fend for themselves better than these idiot phangirls."

Wow. I so wasn't letting him lean this far antiphan again. I was almost tempted to let him let me die, because then maybe I'd go back to my own world. I'd never have an Erik of my own again, but I'd be just fine daydreaming inside my own head from now on. Maybe if I daydream now, it would make me feel better. But I didn't have my POTO station on Pandora or my "Erik and the Opera Populaire" playlist.

But there was one song that I knew all the lyrics too and could reach most of the range without too much breath support. "When You Say You Love Me" by Josh Groban. Every time I heard that song, I pictured an Erik singing it to me. God, how I wanted to be loved the way Erik wished to love Christine!

My voice was weak, my diction sucked, my breath management was wacked, but I sang anyway. "Like the sound of silence calling, I hear your voice and suddenly I'm falling; lost in a dream."

Even if I couldn't have my Erik, I could have the song and the dreams and its memories. I could already imagine an imaginary Erik's arms around me, singing with me, comforting me.

"Like the echoes of our souls are meeting, you say those words, my heart stops beating. I wonder what it means."

Erik sighed, irritated. The stupidly vulnerable human part in him that yearned for love and companionship was beginning to stir without warning. Stop it. Neusance. Christine was coming, and she could fill that voyd because she was pretty and talented and wasn't that enough? The only other option he had was that phangirl…as if! His Christine would know how to help him with that phangirl. For now, he decided he wouldn't let her die. Maybe after she saw Erik and Christine together, she would understand. And besides, less than a week isn't nearly enough suffering, Erik thought.

I had to do some mental preparing before I sang the next line. "What could it be that comes over me? At times I can't move. At times I can hardly breathe."

Sometimes that imagining was really, really powerful. I was certainly lost in the song now, and mentally calling for Erik, imagining him standing shyly at the door saying, "Angel, may your Erik come in? He has some comfort things to make you feel better, like you brought for me when I was sick." That, instead of the actuall Erik distractedly giving me food like he was doing now and disappearing again like he was about to do.

"When you say you love me, the world goes still—so still inside, and when you say you love me, for a moment, there's no one else alive."

She didn't seem to notice the food or drink he had brought. She was singing. She was singing of love, and longing for it. She was singing of…of love passed. She had shared love before, unlike Erik. And now, it had been ripped from her grasp and was being crushed.

Erik didn't know what that felt like. Did he?

"Your other…sending Lauren back…ring was lost…'

Oh…those chest pains weren't just physical ailments. Christine…Lauren…what did he remember last? Lying in his coffin, Christine saying things that made him feel shame and pleasure all at once, like a drug…but Lauren wasn't gone. Lauren was here. And Erik was…Erik was not himself. And he had hurt his Lauren.

She was still trying to sing. "You're the one I've always thought of."

Erik joined in without thinking. "I don't know how, but I feel sheltered in your love. You're where I belong."

Those words…so true. And what was more, Erik could hear vague chords, like dimmed strings somewhere, accompanying the song that had come through the iphone speaker so often. But Erik could finish. He had to…he and she both had to build their strength and their bond here.

"Shh," he said, touching his beloved phangirl's throat. "You eat. I'll sing." Through the tears.

And Erik sang, passionate and full. "And when you're with me, if I close my eyes, there are times I swear I feel like I could fly for a moment in time. Somewhere between the heavens and earth, frozen in time, oh when you say those words".

Oh, she was smiling! His Lauren was smiling at him!

And then they sang together. "When you say you love me, the world goes still—so still inside. And when you say you love me, for a moment, there's no one else alive."

And then Erik had an idea. When she had finished eating, he lifted her in his arms and carried her into a room with a piano. And he played along as they sang.

"And this journey that we're on, how far we've come! And I'll celebrate every moment. And when you say you love me, that's all you have to say. I'll always feel this way."

Erik closed his eyes. Without sight, he could still hear the music and feel the keys; he heard his own voice and felt it swell and ebb inside him; he heard his phangirl's voice and felt her against his chest…his phangirl, in his lap, singing with him…her hands over his as he played, following the chords, and he wasn't even wearing gloves! Maybe…what if…at the pause for the key change, Erik swiftly reached up and removed his mask with a happy sigh.

Lauren could care less about him wearing a mask! To her, faces were just body parts; mirrors were just shiny things; light meant little to nothing, and music meant everything; sound and touch trumped sight for her. … Thank God Erik found her.

And if sound meant more than light could ever mean in her mind…music! Music would keep them strong for ever! Stronger than Christine could ever fathom!

"Sing with me," Erik instructed. They both knew what he meant. And so they sang.

"When you say you love me, the world goes still—so still inside. And when you say you love me, in that moment, I know why I'm alive."

They lay intwined in Erik's bed, halfway to sleep, when Lauren spoke. "I feel kind of bad."

"Why?" Erik's breath made Lauren's hair poof.

"I didn't really believe you all the way. Nadir had to convince me. I'm sorry. I should have believed you."

"Oh my love—that's what Nadirs are for: to help Eriks out of sticky situations, no matter how complicated. Nadir was more than happy to come along for the ride, even from the beginning. And, as long as you love me, you give this Erik what all Eriks wish for, regardless of whether we're sometimes too dense to realize it."

"As long as you lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo—"

"If you start singing Justin Beeber, I will poke you!"

And then they both dissolved into a giggle fit.

Lauren was the first to fall asleep. But before Erik could follow, he needed to finish the song from before…

"When you say you love me, do you know how I love you?"

But the next morning, shortly after a breakfast that cause cavities (not talking about the food), the lair was split by a sugary sweet little teenaged girl voice. "Erik? Erik?"

And so we exit the eye of the hurricane

Christine strode into the lair, overnight bag strung and bulging over one shoulder.

She needs her angel of music—he is specially for her, no one else. And those pesky phangirls just get in the way, especially the ones who just push themselves into her story! They think they can know and love Erik, but they'll never know him like she did, whatever they think. Christine wants to make a statement to all phangirls: stay away from her Erik!

How was she the other ally, you may be wondering? Well, the 04 POTO soundtrack was the wretched phangirl's introduction into the phandom; CDs are reflective like mirrors, and so can easily blur the lines between phan universes. Christine shouldn't have been snooping, but she could feel her angel thinking of her when the phangirl became busy with her schooling, and so she ventured down to his home alone one day to find the CD shining by a candle next to his violin. And she peered into it. And she soon saw her portrayals and analyses and fan opinions.

Well, she really didn't like the look of the damsel in distress. Why should the men have the power while insisting that Christine make the choice? And so she took a lesson from her Erik: get to the top and stay there however you can. Thanks to that CD portal, Christine now knew Erik as well if not better than he knew himself, and after thinking on it, decided that she deserved both Erik and Raoul in her life. No more heartbreaking choices or drama!

She expected her Erik to always be waiting, like a "faithful hound," but that blasted phangirl took him from her. And even after Christine came close to getting him back, her Erik found a way back to his silly phangirl. And after a time, when it was clear that her Erik was now somebody else's Erik in somebody else's world, she got another Erik.

But with the reflective CD giving light to the ring she wore, it was easy changing the voices and adjusting the characters: 2011 POTO cast, pre-LND (and more music and story with that sequel meant more power). A little charm, a little song, a little flirting; and she had that new Erik at her command and she could fix all this mess that the phangirl created.

She has a mission, and she has learned from her Angel of Music that obstacles must be dealt with. And so she must get as many people as possible on her side and away from her enemy. Erik wasn't supposed to come back with Lauren, but Christine's just fine with speeding up that next part of her plan—she can make sure they fall apart; she would even get to watch it happen…get a front row seat to the phangirl's Erik transforming and ruining her absurd phantasies. Because Eriks do not belong with phangirls. Eriks are only for Christines, because no one else deserves an Angel of Music.

Once Lauren is gone, by her own will, Christine can music the "right" Erik into existence and then she can have him for herself. And maybe, if Lauren keeps writing her fanfiction, she can help deliver Christine's message to fans and authors alike: Christine deserves to be the hero, to get the success and the men, and should not automatically be a fragile little victim!

But her Phantom had been making a mistake somewhere…and Christine wanted this done right and quick before Raoul comes back from the North. So Christine literally took the fate of the phangirl's story into her own hands: she took the rings, and made them sparkle with the reflective CD which she kept safe. She has light and sound…and the poor, unfortunate phangirl, being blind, has no light. Yes…this battle will be fought and won, surely.

Christine beamed as she glided into view. Lauren looked deflated. Erik looked flustered. "Christine! Oh! I, uh, did you already eat breakfast?"

"Yes, Erik," she trilled. "But thank you for offering."

"Let me take your bag. I've set up the guest room for you."

"Oh, what a gentleman. Is it allright if we start off the day by reading?" Christine asked as she followed her angel to her room.

"But of course. Oh, I forgot. The dishes."

"That's all right. Lauren can take care of them."

Knowing Lauren could hear, Erik called back hesitantly, "Lauren, could you?"

Lauren's voice was hard. "Sure."

"And then you can join us!" Erik added hastily. Best to keep an eye on both his girls lest one of them hurt the other. Good God...what was he getting into?

Christine frowned behind Erik's back. She would have to really flirt hard to distract HER Erik from that stupid phangirl.

A/N: Questions? Comments? Review? Please? I can't read your minds, I can only read what you write in that little edit box there.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: This chapter is shorter than I wanted, but it was still fun to write. Life is getting crazy again, and while I fight off writer's block and simultaneously try to adult, all you readers enjoy. This section of our adventure might be coming to a close soon. But I have a great idea for my 5-year POTO-versary in December. Should be Chapter 25.

Carlotta was so right just before the song "Prima Donna" when she called Christine Ingénue: endearingly innocent and wholesome; that was Christine Daae's signature act. She was sickeningly polite to Erik and draped complements all over him—along with a hand or an arm, I'd guess—she was always close to him, even when he was just walking around. She seemed to be ignoring me for the most part, unless it was to tell me that I missed a dish or a dirty spot or she would ask, "Lauren, could you please…?" I was this chick's maid in waiting. But I couldn't say anything because she was squeaky clean, behaving like a model young woman and buttering Erik up with charm and femininity.

So I did little things to get Erik's attention when I could, for just a minute or two at a time, but they were worth it.

Erik and Christine were dueting in the music room. I'd been playing the piano in there earlier. I knew they'd be going in there to sing together, and despite everything, I really liked to hear them, so I accidentally-yet-purposefully left my Edgar Allen Poe book next to the piano's pedals, out of the way of shuffling feet. At first, it was really accidental, but when I remembered it, they were already in there and I thought, why not? Besides, I knew the song they were singing and maybe I could try to slip in some humming just to nudge Erik back towards me.

I snuck through the door as quietly as I could and waited for the song to finish. After a second, Erik spoke, his tone of voice indicating his mind was still far away in Christine-land. "Oh, hello, Lauren. Did you need something? You can sit and listen if you'd like."

"I just left something in here. By the piano—by the pedals."

"Oh, yes, your book of Poe. I'll get that for you."

As Erik bent to pick it up, Christine piped up. "Oooh, you read that kind of poetry? It's so dark."

"I like the dark," I said. I love saying that: I like listening to music in the dark; I like reading in the dark because I can; I like litteral darkness because it gives me an advantage. As for the Gothic stuff—I don't know, I just love Halloweeny kind of stories. Besides, I had Pride and Prejudice with all its romantic feels to balance out the darker Poe.

I didn't see Christine frown and glare in response to my smirk (behind Erik's back, of course.) Hah hah, I have something in common with Erik that she doesn't: we love Poe.

"Here," said Erik. And I reached out to take Poe from him. I reached out with both hands because the volume was thick and heavy and I touched Erik's hand. I automatically held onto it for a tiny second. He had gloves on.

And then I pulled the book to me and held it to my chest, suddenly self-conscious about Christine watching Erik and me. To calm myself, I started to sing whatever was playing in my head: it happened to be Paisiello's "Nel Cor Piu Non Mi Sento." I'd sung the solo version in the key of F for private voice once; Erik and Christine had just been singing it, but as a duet and in the key of G, like in the actual opera. _"_ _Mi stuzzichi, mi mastichi, mi pungichi, mi pizzichi;"_ I sang softly, remembering as I did so what Nadir had told me about music here.

Erik's voice started to sound familiar again. "Ah, you know this one."

"A little. I heard it before," I said. But we both knew what I meant.

"Your voice is very beautiful," Christine said. "Don't you think so, Erik?"

"Oh yes."

"But you really should support the sound more," Christine continued. "Breathe deeper and open your throat and let the sound brush through your sinuses just a little. I know you didn't warm up, and I know you haven't been practicing like I have, but you really could have a splendid voice if you worked hard enough."

I honestly couldn't tell if she was being genuine and trying to help me or if it was all a back-handed insult. Erik told me that we should be ready to eat soon and that he would cook tonight. (Christine never cooked.) I walked out with Poe, wondering if there was a poem in there about a gruesome punishment for a seductive little mistress.

Erik is fighting.

Christine…stupid infatuation…like chains. Not his Christine…but she is, she's his…but Lauren…why is Lauren unhappy?

His Lauren must not feel so hurt…he must make her feel welcome and loved here. but Christine…just a moment…a few moments more…oh, what was he to go back to again?

He loves her…which her? Both? No. Yes. Yes, he loves both, but that won't work!

Christine's favorite way to torture me was by flipping Erik's moods and being a not-so-great house mate.

Erik as the Phantom was finally just beginning to accept the phangirl and act neutral almost cordial towards me. I was useful to him and he was hinting at being appreciative. He seemed pleasantly surprised when he'd emerge from a music session with or without Christine to find the dishes done or the front room cleaned up or something of the sort. I was ifficient enough to attend to my own daily needs, unless there was heavy cooking involved, and so Erik had little reason to seek me out; yet he tossed me an Erik-style compliment every so often. "I suppose I should be thankful that you are making an effort to keep me from dying," or "You forget that Erik is not quite human."

But Christine liked to strike me when Erik was most aware and paying the most attention to me. If Erik wasn't totally absorbed in something, it was possible he was feeling unstable or teetering on instability. Periods of contentment didn't last long, and luckily or unluckily enough, you could feel when he might snap. Christine used this against us.

I was collecting the dirty laundry. Erik always left his clothes in a basket outside his door (nobody was allowed in Erik's room), and Christine was supposed to do the same. I always tried to ask if either of the other occupants of the house had other clothes that hadn't made it into there baskets, just in case, so I didn't miss something. Erik always made sure his clothes were properly placed before pickup, which I appreciated, so I breezed by his door without problem. Since I wasn't not allowed in Christine's room, I snuck in there to pick up any clothes that were tossed and/or crumpled around her bed or changing screen. Luckily, Erik had thrown a fit sometime ago when there were lady garments in the bathroom, so I didn't have to check there. I crawled around and scooped up what I thought was everything and started to stand back up, when I heard her speak from the doorway.

"I may have accidentally left some items in…unusual places. I can't help you right now, though."

She was gone before I could finnish asking for help anyway. I combed the entire dang room, guessed by touch (and even by smell) which clothes were in need of wash, and prayed that I was close enough.

A couple of days went by and the laundry came back. Erik sorted everything. I counted my lucky stars that he was careful to give me clothes with a lot of textures so I knew how to pair things up. I was still getting clothes that Christine didn't want to wear anymore, but at least I got clothes.

Well, this time I apparently got more clean clothes than Christine. I took my load to my little room, and when I arrived back in the parlor, Christine didn't bother with suttlty. "This isn't all of my dirty laundry."

"Well," I said, "That's all I could find."

"You didn't even look."

"I searched the entire room and took the clothes that I knew were dirty."

Christine wasn't low enough to strike me in front of Erik, who was composing nearby, so she tattled to Erik when I was gone. I heard her. "Erik, your servant is slacking."

Erik, who had been acting as ghost aboveground all day and was now wearing thin, sighed. "I will speak with her, my darling. You deserve better than this dismal house and these gloomy halls. And you shall have it."

I took my position on my bed when Erik came in. I knew he must be tired, and I was determined to irk him as little as possible…hopefully.

Erik said, "Christine says you have been lazy."

I explained as calmly and as clearly as I could. "I looked in her basket and it wasn't that full, so I guessed she'd forgotten about some clothes. So I looked near her bed and dresser just in case. I just picked up what I found."

I knew I'd get a typical tired-and-Christine-occupied-Erik response, but anticipating it didn't lessen the sting. "Well, be sure to be more thorough next time. I will not have anyone in this house be dissatisfied when there is no need."

Well, I was dissatisfied…but whatever. "I'm sorry. I'll do better."

Erik came into my room and reached for one of my hands. (I tried not to phangirl.) "Please, Lauren, Erik is very tired, and he needs some quiet time to rest. Please just try to keep calm with Christine…at least for the evening."

"I can do that." She might not want to try, but I will.

"Thank you." Erik talked to himself as he walked down the hall. "Such a good, kind woman."

And I mentally performed a phangirl victory dance.

As it turned out, Erik wasn't feeling well the next day. Christine and I made our own breakfasts (she told me she didn't want me messing hers up), and then she said, "I'm going to go check on Erik. Maybe he overslept." Not too much later, I heard Erik thundering, "Go away, I said! Leave Erik to wallow in his black despair!" And Christine moodily stomped off.

Later that day, since Christine had locked herself in her room and didn't bother about either of us, I went to check on Erik. When I knocked, Erik thought I was Christine.

"Go away, woman! I told you we will not be singing today!"

"It's me, Erik; it's Lauren."

His voice got softer. "Oh. Well—go away now."

"I just wanted to ask if you needed anything—if I could do anything for you."

"I don't care. Just leave me."

Erik is still fighting. Fighting his demons, fighting his emotions, fighting to defend his girls…against each other, fighting…too tired to fight.

Acording to the clock, both girls should be asleep. Now without distractions it was safe to go out. But when Erik opened the door, he saw what his girls had left for him and the heaviness in his chest and the aching in his head and the knot in his stomach shrunk.

On one side of the doorway was a white rose and a note:

My poor, unhappy Erik,

I hope you are not upset with me. Your being sad makes me terribly distraught. I do hope we can sing again soon. It is rather lonely around here without music. Lauren seems to be content with waiting, but I am not. I miss you so when you are like this…do feel better soon.

Your Christine

Lauren always tries her best to do her job. She was just doing the laundry how she always did. Is Christine hurting Lauren? Yes…no…maybe. She would…she wouldn't…what?

Christine…so beautiful…so talented…so pure…Erik must get better for Christine's sake.

At the other side of the door, there was a box of chocolates and cup of brandy. Atop the box was a note in braille:

Dark Chocolate for the sadness and brandy for the demons. Remember, you have people who care about you.

Erik set the rose and its note on his vanity. And then he sat with the chocolates and the brandy, the braille note in an inside pocket. He liked to touch the dots. He sipped the drink and nibbled a chocolate. Hazelnut filling.

Lauren…so sweet…so caring…so genuine…Lauren wanted to help him get better.

Be gone, demons. Keep out and away, despair.

Erik can't think straight. He loves her…which her?

"Sorry to keep you waiting, my friend. I had a Lauren in my arms."

Nadir laughed jovially at his friend's lovestruck smile. "Glad to see that Christine's going back up above hasn't left you gloomy like it usually would."

"It could never…not when Erik has a phangirl! Although, I must confess I find myself feeling shameful. Christine has not released her hold on me completely and, well, I fear I may have upset Lauren."

"But she knows of Christine and of the light and of the music. Don't give up, Erik. You have a phan, and I have a friend, and we will all lose if she leaves."

"You made me feel as though I was enough."-Say You Won't Let Go, James Arthur. I was laying on my cot, floating in Erik feels. Christine had been gone for about three days, and Erik and I had become "A phantom and a phan" once again: no more and yet no less…happy just to be together. I was reading for awhile, but when I heard Erik greet Nadir I stopped. Now I heard their voices in the background as I played songs in my head.

"Knock knock," whispered a feminine voice.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded of Christine. "You snuck down here, right?"

"Correct. Erik doesn't know I'm here. I just wanted to know how much longer you were thinking of staying here? There is only one Erik and two of us."

"You had an Erik before you sucked us both here. Having one Erik isn't enough for you?"

"That other Phantom wasn't for me—he's for you. I just needed him to help me. He's all yours now if you want him. I'll happily separate them for you."

"I don't want an antiphan Erik!"

"Well then, he'll just have to choose between us, I suppose."

I only had two weeks with Erik before Christine came back. Those two weeks were great and all, but it really sucked when I'd wake up and remember that Erik didn't fall asleep cuddling with me the night before because he was too busy fawning over Christine. At least I was no longer the maid: I was one of Erik's two girls. On the plus side, I got my share of Erik doting; on the minus side, the competition between me and Christine seemed sharper and clever passive aggression was no longer necisary.

We were playing tug-of-war with the poor Erik now. He was giving both of us music lessons;separately, obviously. But we still mercilessly critiqued each other. When Christine foundout that Erik was reading books to me that weren't available in braille, she demanded to be read to. When I found out that Christine loved to sit on the floor and lean against Erik's legs and hold his hand with gloves on, I sat next to him on the sofa and slipped one finger under his glove to touch his skin. But Erik had a whole new reason for scaring now: when he'd had enough of the catfights, he could spook us silent and compliant for a day or two. Then one of us would be brave enough to push a tiny little boundry and the cycle would start again.


	24. Chapter 24

My dearest Christine,

I am home again. I must say, I was perhaps too excited to stamp the envelope which carried this letter to you with my family's crest instead of just penning my name on it. It feels so good to be home. Philippe has filled me in on all the gossip, of course. (I expected no less of him.)

But all of the unpacking and catching up on my affairs here is finally reaching its end. And I simply can't wait to see you again, Little Lotte. I miss you terribly.

I hear you are prima donna now! I'm so proud of you, my darling. I will be there on your debut, in 4 weeks' time. How I wish I could see you sooner, but I know how seriously you take your singing. I will wait, and the anticipation will make our reunion far sweeter, I'm sure. Good luck, and I shall see you after your first performance, no matter how hard I must push through your crowd of admirers!

All my love,

Viscount Raoul de Chagny

I heard Christine fold up the letter and stash it away.

"So why did you read that to me?" I asked.

"Well, I'm excited! My dear Raoul has come home! You know as well as I do that Erik couldn't see that without dropping into a depression."

"Ah. True. Well, That's great! And you get to see him after your debut—that sounds perfect!" I leaned close to whisper in her ear. "You could even just brush past him in the crowd or something, exchange a word, meet somewhere after…you could totally get around Erik." And Daae gone means me having full time Erik access.

"Yes," she whispered back. "Only for a little while, though. I can't just completely abandon my poor Erik like that."

Her Erik. "Yes. You're right. But isn't juggling two men a lot of work?"

Christine linked my arm and tugged me out of my room. I assumed she was leading me out into the parlor. She loved acting like we were friends. "Surprisingly, no. This world isn't just a copy of a story, remember. Stories need drama to support them, but real life is often far less theatrical. In this universe, Erik knows his role as my teacher, Raoul knows his role as my future husband, and they have learned to balance and share me. It's not without it's bumps in the road, of course, but we all manage."

Okay, I was genuinely interested now. "Wow! For real? I mean, I guess the stories do have the drama to allow people to enjoy reading them or watching them or whatever, and I loved the POTO books and movies as much as the next phan, but that peace between you all makes me kind of happy." Mostly happy for Erik's sake, but still.

"Yes, the three of us have indeed found peace," Christine said, contentedly. We walked down a long hallway, past her bedroom (she was closer to Erik than I was), and past Erik's—"No," she said suddenly, using that imperious tone she usually saved for when she could flaunt her sighted advantage. "Follow me. We're going in here." And she steered me by the shoulders into Erik's room.

"What are we doing in here?" I whispered. My gut was telling me to run. Christine led me over to a wall, and after a minute, I felt the air shift. Christine had opened up a wall pivot.

"Go in," she urged.

I entered. When Christine produced some light, I noticed how shiny the walls looked, and I warred between phangirling and freaking out: I was standing in the torture chamber.

"Oh. Why are we in here?"

Christine heaved a sigh. "As I said, being shared romantically was not without its ups and downs. At the very least, Erik can be insecure and unstable. But we were getting along at least…until Erik left me for you. You have destroyed the frail balance I have finally achieved, Lauren. And I am running out of time with Raoul having finished his travels. Come over here. Recognize this? Yes: it's the iron tree. Now, feel this rope? You know what this is, right? Now I am going to leave, and you just relax in this chamber here. Feel around. Enjoy this iconic part of Erik's home—get your phangirl on."

She closed the freakin pivot on her way out.

"How do I get out?" I called.

"Shhh! Just relax. And you can leave the way anyone else would leave that room. Nobody will think it out of place, and we can all go on living, you in your reality and Erik and I in ours. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have only 4 weeks left before my debut, and I must make it good."

Oh. So I have to die to leave this universe and return to my own. Morbid.

My heart leapt when I heard Erik's sleepy voice. "What are you doing in here, my dear?"

"Oh," the Ingenue simpered. "I was just visiting a mirror, Erik. I needed the light."

"I see," hissed the Phantom.

The two music lovers left the room. I don't know when or how, but Christine turned the torture chamber on without Erik knowing.

I listened to and enjoyed the constant on-and-off rehearsal, but dang it was getting hot in here! Stupid metal walls! Wait, is glass a metal? I think so. I don't know. At least I know I'm in a room and not an actual desert—feels like one, though!

I wonder how many people licked the walls like Raoul and the Persian did in Lerroux because they thought there was water? And now I'm grossed out thinking about all those tongues all over the walls.

Thirsty.

How long have I even been in here?

"Christine, darling?"

Lounging comfortably on the sofa, Christine looked up from her book. "Yes, Erik?"

"Where's Lauren? I haven't seen her all day. Do you know where she is?"

Christine shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Probably just in her room reading or something. Not that she really ever does much else."

With some difficulty, Erik kept his voice calm. "She's not in there. I checked."

"Erik dear, don't worry."

"But she didn't have lunch, and now it's suppertime. I must make sure she is all right." Erik's voice shrunk. I…I've hurt her before. I can not let her be hurt again. I have to find her, Christine. Your supper is on the table—go eat. I'll be along in a minute."

"But Erik," Christine began. She didn't know what excuse to use to get him distracted from Lauren, but he had vanished before his name had fallen from her lips. Christine sighed and went to eat, thinking she would read some more before retiring early, in order to rise early tomorrow and prepare for another day of singing.

Erik swept into his room and right to his bureau. He picked up the braille note Lauren had left for him with her chocolate-and-brandy get well gift. Touching the braille calmed him down somehow.

'Oh Lauren, please tell your Erik that you're all right.'

Erik hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud, but then he heard his Lauren's voice. "I'm in here, guy."

"No!" Erik shouted. He wrestled with the catch to open the torture chamber and Lauren burst out into his room along with a cloud of hot air.

"God, it was freakin hot in there! Pleas don't touch me just now; I feel sticky and disgusting. Bath…I so need a bath right now. Bath and then food. But—but water first!"

Erik rushed to get her what she needed. "Oh, yes, my love. But what were you doing in there?"

"Well, it wasn't by choice. But at least I wasn't too affected by the illusion. I don't know if it's because I know how it works or because I can't see. But hey, blind plus!" I took my supplies from Erik and went off for a nice bath, the cup's rim in my mouth while I was walking. Water…water…really wish I had youtube to play that Brad Paisley song. (A/N, don't own youtube or the song or artist—who's name I forgot to spellcheck so don't nag me for that because I know I'm lazy.)

Erik took his supper in his room, like usual. But this time, it wasn't because of the mask, but because he wanted to be alone, much to Christine's disappointment. Feelings…he had so many feelings.

Lauren had emerged from that room of mirrors calmer than he expected, but she knew its secrets and did not have the eyes to be so deceived; he was so proud and so relieved about her sanity and her strength. She definitely had her advantages as a phangirl. And she was aware of them. God, Erik was grateful for that.

If things had turned out differently in that room…no. Erik hated scary, lonely thoughts like that. Fate could not be so cruel as to take Lauren from him or he from her; they had both proven too strong for that to be easily accomplished.

But there was a reason that she had been locked in that room in the first place…locked in there without anyone ready to release her. Christine…what a little trickster! She hurt his phangirl…how dare she! How could she?

Oh, Erik knew how she could and why she dared, even if the answers to those questions (the last one especially) made him feel the most horrible mixture of anger and heartbreak he had ever known. Christine was hurting Lauren. Christine always struck first, and Lauren struck back only in defense…okay, maybe with a little thought of getting even, but so what? But Christine had gone far enough this time for her spell over Erik to be broken. Erik could no longer feel love for Christine.

Erik stalked out to the front room to find his engenue asleep on the couch. Seeing her perfect, peaceful sleeping form made him glare. He silently went over and shook her. "Christine," he hissed. "Wake up, girl."

"Mmmmm?" She stretched and her hand pushed him away as she did so. Eyes fluttering open, she yawned, and then said sweetly, "Oh, my Erik. It's just you."

Her Erik…yeah right. Avoiding her big, innocent-looking eyes, he roughly got her into a sitting position and wasted no time. "You put my Lauren in that room, did you not? She could have…she eventually would have…"

Christine reached to put a placating hand on his arm. "It would have been her decision. And she wouldn't have died, Erik. You know that."

"You hurt her. You did not like her, so you hurt her." Erik's fury was rising now."And you have been continuously making her miserable here! You took our rings, you pulled us here, and now you seek to tear us apart!

A shrug. Not denial at all. But indifference.

After a moment of silence, Erik spoke again, deadly calm. "Why? I let you go, Christine. I saw your selfless act of love for Raoul, and I learned what real love was and how to give it, and I let you go. I gave you real love, knowing that Raoul would take care of you and that you did not belong with who I was. And then, when I do find someone who loves me for who I am-"

With her angel face screwed up in frustration, Christine pounded her fist on the pillow. "It's not right! It's simply not right, Erik! The two of you are from different worlds! Completely different universes! Forget social classes, you're from different universes!"

And Erik fired back. "When does an Erik ever care if something is right? I love my phangirl, you narrow-minded child! Deal with it!"

Christine's sigh was full of pity. (How Erik hated her pity.) "Oh, my Erik…that phangirl has made you dillusional! You know as well as I do that phans aren't real to us just as we aren't real to them. Giving one's love to a phan or a character…that is nothing more than a cheap, unhealthy fix. It isn't right, Erik, and you both shall never find true happiness, and I…I only wanted to give you a chance at real, true happiness, and to give you another chance at what you truly wanted with me! She was weeping now. "Erik, when I saw your story in its entirety…I…I felt for you. All I wanted was to give you another chance."

Erik sighed too. "Your window has closed," he said, his voice level again. "As for what Lauren's being a phangirl means, you think I am not aware? I am only as real as Lauren wishes, as are you! As are all of us! I am at her will for ever, and I am to please her, but I will bring her happiness, through my story in its many forms and through her fantacies, as long as she wants, and that brings me happiness like I have never fathomed! … If you do love me, Christine, why do you seek to take away my happiness?" Lauren was his happiness…Christine couldn't be, not now.

"I do love you, Erik! I love you for what you have given me! I love the music we make! And all I desire is for you to love me like you said you did all this time! I am here for you now, Erik. I am here to sing with you forever if you'll have me."

"But you have hurt the girl who holds my heart. And so the only way I will ever come close to loving you is if it would save me from death—and even then, it isn't very likely!" And Erik turned on his heel and left, and Christine pouted as she stared after him.

Erik had more water—maybe a little more than I needed—and a meal in my room when I came back from my bath.

I stepped out in a simple bathrobe and went towards my cot, but an Erik hand spun me around and into an Erik embrace. I returned the gesture, wondering how to tell him explicitly that his little angel locked me up to die (sort of), but he spoke before I could.

"Do you feel better now? Are you comfortable again?" he asked in a whisper. I was going to answer yes, but he kept talking. "I'm so sorry, my Lauren. I'm so, so sorry. I…I don't know what to say. Christine told me…I knew she might have put you in there if you didn't deliberately go in…I was hoping it was an accident, but it was locked from the outside. She confessed to me just now. I…please forgive me…"

"It's okay," I said, letting him lead me over to a little table with a candle. "You didn't know. And Christine's really good at acting all sweet and good just to get away with stuff. That's really her go-to card. Besides, you got me out. I'm still here."

Erik didn't say anything, just gave a sad sigh and pulled out my chair and took up his seat next to me. I looked at the candle flame for a minute before reaching for my plate (soft glowy lights in darkness calm me down). Erik had made me a simple dish of meat and vegies over rice, and there was a full pitcher of water and glasses lined up—8 of them. I counted.

"All for you," Erik said. "You must be thirsty."

I laughed. "I don't know if I'm thirsty enough to finish this whole pitcher."

"Then I will leave it with you for the night. I can't believe I let her do that to you! I didn't think she would remember how the chamber worked. Oh Christine…Erik gave you everything, and now you have ruined it all…even you try to hurt Erik!"

"Like I said, she's a good deceiver when she wants to be." I took a huge bite of dinner. "Mmmmm, this is really good. I like the flavor. You already ate, right?" Please get distracted.

"Yes, I did."

"Okay. Good."

"You like taking care of your Erik, don't you?"

"Mmmmmmm." My mouth was full—really full.

I felt Erik's arms encircle me. "Your Erik likes taking care of you, too."

Yay, distraction-from-despair attempt successful. I took Erik's cold hands and pressed them to my face. "Feels gooooood," I said. (Erik laughed.)

I finished my meal and drank three cups of water in silence. Companionable silence. Erik refused to let go of me, which I enjoyed. I had learned to take advantage of the moments when his little enginue wasn't begging for his attention.

Speaking of her… "Where's Christine?"

"Already sleeping." Oh boy…there was that scary don't-ask-but-be-warned tone.

Erik took me to my bed when he saw me yawn. "I'll take your dishes away when we wake tomorrow," he said, settling in beside me. We settled in each other's arms, like when he snuck into my room at night in my universe.

I didn't bother to stop myself from bringing Christine up again. "Won't she get mad when you come out of my room in the morning?" I knew she would, but would she let him see that or just be upset with me?

Erik sighed and pulled me closer. "She…I won't care. I can not love her anymore…not after what she did. But look, my darling, look what your Erik got back!" He wiggled his pinky finger against my cheek and I felt cold metal.

"Your ring!" I squeezed him. "Yay! Whoa, shiny." I squinched my eyes shut. "Too shiny."

"One ring down, one to go." Erik pulled me closer. "Would you…would you sing before we sleep? It's just…Christine got light on the rings from the mirrors, and…"

"Oh, so that's why that ring looks so shiny. What would you like to sing? Keep in mind that my breathing won't be the best with your arms like this, not that I'm complaining."

(A/N: song by Jason Mraz and Sara Bareilles) "Hmmm. 'You Matter to Me.' The first time you heard it, in the car on the way home from church at college, you thought of singing the first verse to me and me responding with the second, right?"

"Yes." I forgot that Erik could share my Phantom-related, music-associated memories.

"You dreamed of it happening on Coney Island, and of me performing this song with you while Christine watched somewhere in the crowd, in a little pub off of the park. We had already become close, and Christine watched us and realized that I had finally found true happiness and that she was free." It was a cool kind of creepy that my Erik knew all my phantacies, from the possible fanfics to the dumb little daydreams.

"Uh…yeah."

"You start. Let your voice pick a pitch and sing, and I'll take the second verse, just like your daydream."

I started on anA, which raised the original key from F to G. "'I could find the whole meaning of life in those sad eyes. / They say things you never quite say but I hear. / Come out of hiding; I'm right here beside you, / and I'll stay there as long as you let me.'"

I felt Erik relax and heard him make a funny whining noise. I paused.

"No, Erik whispered, like he was afraid to shatter the moment. "It's perfect. It's what your Erik has always wanted to hear. Keep going—the chorus."

I obliged. "'Because you matter to me, / simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody. / You matter to me. / I promise you do. / You matter, too. / I promise you do, / you'll see. / You matter to me.'"

Erik gently kissed me and then took the second verse, a fifth above (or actually a fourth below) my key, in the key of D. (D major, my favorite key!) "'It's addictive the moment you let yourself think, / the things that I say just might matter to someone. / All of this time, I've been keeping my mind on the running away. / And for the first time, I think I'd consider the stay.'"

And it was my turn to get the feels. I had told Erik through song that I would understand him, wait for him and be there for him if only he said yes, and at least in this fanfiction (sorry, fourth wall) he had. And now he just told me that in song: he would stay with me. I let out a quiet phangirl squeal—you know the kind; that involuntary little squeak you make when you find that perfect little feely-touching, phantasy-satisfying thing.

I could hear the smile in Erik's voice as he continued. "'Because you matter to me, / simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody. / You matter to me. / I promise you do. / You matter, too. / I promise you do, / you'll see. / You matter to me.'"

I knew that Christine would not be as big a thret now because of Erik's voice. It wasn't just POTO25/LND Erik voice anymore. It was my own Erik's voice—the voice I tried to put together in my head, a mishmash of almost all the Phantom voices I'd heard: emotion and resonant lower range of Jerry Butler (2004 movie); intensity and power of Ramin Carimloo (25th anniversary and original LND recording),; flowiness/legato of Michael Crawford (original 1986 cast recording); gentleness and tenderness of Charles Dansce and Richard White (early 90s mini-series and American musical); smoothness of Chris Man (the live version that I saw in 2015). in summary, a smooth light or lyric baritone voice (is baritenor a thing?) that could slide easily into a bass-baritone range but boasted a killer falseto as well. (I know, I know, pretty crazy versatile voice, but it's for an Erik.)

I kissed him. And then we sang the chorus together, and I was surprised that I didn't have to think about holding my part. The magic of singing with an Erik in a phanfiction. "'Because you matter to me, / simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody. / You matter to me. / I promise you do. / You matter, too. / I promise you do, / you'll see. / You matter to me.'"

Erik stroked my hair after I buried my face back into the pillow. "May I say something very, very corny?" he asked.

"Sure. Go ahead."

"I never tire of kissing you."

"Awwww," I said in an exaggerated, bright-and-nasally way. "You so cute."

Erik giggled. I liked that giggle: a carefree, bubbly with happiness kind of giggle (A/N;: think of Richard White's giggle in the American phantom Musical during "You Are My Own," and add a tiny bit more resonance…kind of close to baby Dory in Finding Dory.) And Only I ever heard that giggle—Christine had never known it.

I woke up before Erik—a rarity. My head was on his shoulder. He had one arm around my back and I had one arm across his front. I could hear his heartbeat and his slow breathing. Just until Christine made her presence known—or until Erik woke up and left—I had him all to myself.

I lifted my arm from Erik cautiously. No reaction—he must really be out.

There was a pillow sandwiched between my head and his shoulder. Should I move it? I did—slowly. I laid next to him for a minute, trying to imagine what he must look like without touching him: all stretched out on his back, (his feet probably dangling off the bed somewhere), chest rising and falling, face…without a mask?

I didn't want to wake him up, but I wanted to see him. I reached down to grab his hand. He had a musician's long-fingered hand; it was thin and bony and cold, of course, but it was still a nice hand, I thought; his ring was on his pinky; he had calouses on some of his fingers and some on his palm, probably from all the string-playing and tool-handling he did; I could feel the vains on the back of his hand; bony as he was, I knew there was muscle in there somewhere. I felt his hand, his wrist, his arm…and then I was touching his shoulders and his head. His face had been just above my head when we were sleeping, his head turned towards me. He still didn't stir when I touched his chin or his neck.

So, moving as little as I could, I touched through the heavy covers. Oh, turns out he wasn't actually laying on his back—just his upper half looked like it. His bottom half was turned on his side, toward me, with his legs bent. Jeez, he was tall. Tall and thin, like a string bean.

I went back up to his face. I touched his almost-bald head and the little hair on his forehead. I touched his ears. I touched his cheekbones and his cheeks full of bumps and too-thin spots. I touched his mouth, with his dry lips that were uneven like his cheeks. I touched his nonexistent eyebrows and the bridge of his nose that ended too quickly. I wanted to feel his closed eyes, but I knew better than to stick my fingers in someone else's eyesockets.

I settled back down and put my arms back where they had been. I closed my eyes again, content to relax and enjoy cuddling with my Erik for as long as possible. I had no idea what would happen with him and Christine, and I guess I thought that keeping him from her and the drama as long as I could would count for something.

But Erik made a humming noise and broke the silence. (I liked feeling his voice vibrate in his chest—God, that sounds cheesey). "That felt good—why'd you stop?" he asked sleepily.

"I don't know. I—wait, you were awake?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Oh. So, I guess you have to go?" Thanks a lot for coming down hard, reality—I mean Christine—I mean reality.

"Everyone has to go in the morning. You see, during the night, the bladder tends to fill up, so—"

"I meant go and coach Christine, you buttface," I said with a laugh.

Erik sat up and hugged me before he rose. "Please just let me get Christine out on that stage…I know you don't want that, but with her preoccupied…I have a plan. Trust me."

"A plan?"

I heard Erik gathering up the dishes. "Yes. I'll explain everything tonight when Christine has retired to bed. But I really must go now…it's later than I'd hoped."

Erik came into the parlor, mind fuzzy with the memory of the sensation of Lauren's lips on his own, and found Christine obediently waiting near the piano, her music books on the stand next to her. "Have you eaten?" he asked, not unkindly, avoiding her gaze.

"Yes," she croaked.

At the broken sound of her voice, Erik did look at her face. His anger at her was temporarily forgotten when he saw her tear-streaked cheeks. "Have you been crying?"

"I'm sorry, Erik!" And she flung herself at him, collapsing to her knees and wrapping herself around his legs before he could bend down to her, sobbing into his shins. "I know what I did was truly terrible. I…I don't know why I did it. I just…I thought…I don't want you to be upset with me. Please, Erik, I know forgiveness is a long way off, but…"

Erik felt defeated. He sighed and hushed her. "None of that now, child. We have music to rehearse. Here, come sit on the sofa and calm yourself. For now, I am your teacher. When you are ready, we shall warm up. You will rehearse with me before you go up to rehearse with the rest of the company, you will come down after lunch to study your music, there will be one shorter lesson before dinner, and then you will have the rest of the evening to yourself. It will be this way, excluding Sundays when we shall rehearse not in the morning but all afternoon, until your debut night."

"Yes, Erik."

Christine reminded him how high they could fly. All day was a cloud of music and bliss. As teacher and student, they danced a perfect duet, a give-and-take that soared them higher with every measure, every phrase, every aria. Even the recitative, the stage directions, the acting they practiced…Christine dissolved completely into her character, taking each piece of critique and compliment Erik gave her as a soldier takes orders in battle. Even when she was aboveground, Erik looked over the morning's notes he'd taken, preparing for the after noon. There was still a fair bit of road ahead.

But then Lauren came out to have lunch. Erik rushed to prepare her something, heart racing and thoughts zooming to frightening places. His thoughts got louder and louder until he was spilling them out of his mouth.

"Lauren…oh Lauren. Please do forgive your Erik. Christine has a lot of repertoire, you see. Erik lost track of time—you know how he gets. But, oh, that is no excuse!"

But Lauren just sat down and began to eat.

Erik watched her for awhile. "You were hungry. Are you satisfied? … Oh, good, good. I am sorry, my angel. Erik was supposed to care for his phangirl, but Erik forgot about you! How cruel Erik is!"

Lauren cut across him, gentle and calm. "But Erik had a student who is preparing for her opera debut. His student must convince the management and the whole of the Parisian opera scene that she is to permanently replace the previous diva. That is no easy task. And your phangirl understands, Erik. You may be my Erik, but you are also Christine's teacher, and you have a duty to her. I respect that."

Erik's heart fluttered. He closed his damp eyes, and then realized…Lauren held his hand. Christine had always flinched away from his bare skin, sometimes even when Erik Wore thin gloves, but Lauren had taken his hand and was stroking it, trying to calm him. So Erik reached out and drew his Lauren into his arms. "You're too good to your Erik."

Feeling her arms around him made his heart sigh. "I'll forgive you for all four weeks on one condition," she said, though her expression remained kind rather than stern. "Don't forget about the plan you mentioned this morning."

"Oh, I won't. I—I'm trying to look at the clock, darling, that's why I'm twisting around. Ah, Christine should be on her way back down! Go, Lauren. For the plan to work, Christine must not suspect that I am close to you. We must give her no reason to come between us. Tonight, after she goes to sleep, I will come to you and tell you what I have planned. I hear her on my porch. Go on." And he kissed her cheek, and she went, and Christine came again.

"Nevermore."—the Raven, Edgar Allen Poe (disclaimer: don't own it). God, I loved Poe. I loved imagery; I loved emotion; I loved that poetry could have rhyme and rhythm and do things with words that other literature couldn't do, like use words to describe something that wasn't at all litteral. And I liked that words could be spelt different and grammar rules could be broken. What's the opposite of forevermore? Nevermore.

I heard a knock. I put down my book. "Who goes there?"

"It's Christine. Dinner is ready."

Dinner was all about Christine. I didn't mind too much, honestly. We talked about the opera and I missed everybody up there, so it was nice to hear about them all. Erik's preoccupation with Christine made me uneasy, though. I reminded myself that he was acting, and that made it hurt slightly less…only slightly.

Erik escorted me back to my room once Christine was into a book. We closed my door noisily, and then closed his door noisily, and then he slipped quietly back into my room. I went and sat down on my bed, and Erik sat at the other end so he could lean over and rest his head on my shoulder.

"Hey, you," I said.

"I'm sorry…I almost…I'm sorry! I…I almost forgot that I was acting! She still…she still affects me so…when we sing. Please believe your Erik when he says he is trying very hard to balance between the two of you."

Dang. A part of me didn't like how torn he must feel. I embraced him and rubbed his back. "It's okay. I know this is like you're being ripped in two different directions. It's okay. Like I told you at lunch, I understand. I mean…I've seen, like, 7 or 8 or so of your adaptations—I know about your and Christine's relationship and I respect it."

Erik sat up and pulled me against his side. "Your Erik wants to keep you…forever…here is my plan—simple: let's pull a PONR."

"Okay…me and you both?"

"Yes. I have almost finished brailling the music for you. You'll know the melodies. The premise of the opera is this: A struggling new artist is discovered by a young heiress, and the heiress helps him get noticed by the public, but soon enough, he must choose between a life full of riches and submission or a life of modesty and freedom of expression. During the finale, the rich woman seduces the poor artist with fame and herself. But the artist, to everyone's shock, rejects her in favor of music. Christine will play the wealthy seductress—she has been wanting to break out of sweet little heroine roles; I will sneak on and play the young artist—Christine knows I will, but not another soul does; you, with Nadir's help, will sneak into the wings with the chorus that will sing the role of the music, and you'll have a solo at the very end. Nobody will know who you are. We will use the very CD that Christine has been getting light from: we will use the finale track for everything but the words. Christine will sing PONR, I will sing AIAOY, and you will sing AOM. I can't say the titles, my love—the CD is…always listening for that. It will pick up right after"—he whispered in my ear-"'…hopes are shattered', do you see?"

"Yup. I got you. I'm guessing that when I get the music, it will make more sense?"

"Yes. And here's the best part: Raoul will be waiting too!" He'll be waiting to whisk away his childhood sweetheart! After Erik has set Christine free and Erik's phangirl has claimed him, all to song, the CD will let everything go. Lauren, you will be in control of your fanfiction again!"

"How? Wait, were you listening when Christine read me the letter that said he would be there when she performed?"

"No. I read it beforehand and resealed it. I have a copy of the Chagny seal."

I poked Erik hard in the arm. "Of course you do!"

"Ow!"

"You couldn't resist, couldya?"

"Hey, it's part of what makes Erik Erik!" He grabbed my hands and acted like he was keeping them prisoner. I laughed.

"I know what I signed up for," I said. "To be honest, I was waiting for the Lerroux to show."

"And you could have shaped me any way you wished…yet you try to accept not ignore all my imperfections," he murmered.

"But you're still shaped by me," I said, kind of sad. "I did tweak you."

Erik had always hugged me gently until then. Then, I got a really abrupt and really tight Erik hug. And I decided I liked those. "Oh, don't be so sad! I came back to you of my own free will, remember? I embraced all your phangirlness, just as you embrace my Erikness. You devour all the Phantom you can find; I give you myself for your phantasies."

"Just no murdering, please. That's a hard limit right there," I said, dead serious.

"An Erik cannot kill a Christine," he reassured. "but the Raoul will take care of her. Trust your Erik and trust Raoul."

"OK. Let's do this!"

"That's my phangirl." A kiss goodnight, a good night's sleep, and three solid weeks of rehearsal in the day and secret cuddles and conversations at night. Why was it so fun to help Erik trick Christine? Don't know, don't care.

A/N: First: I'd like to say that I'm so glad the doc manager file life is now 365 days instead of 90! Don't know when that happened, but YAAAAYYY!

Second: I have been heavily inspired lately by googling things like "why the Phantom and Christine wouldn't work" and "in defense of Raoul and Christine" and "what would be on Erik's playlist [or] what would be in Erik's library" among other things. I am a phan who dives deep…I want to know everything! Anyway, I recommend one article in particular: "Phantom of the Opera and the Problem of Shipping." The blog/domain is called the Artifice. Yes, it's an article explaining why a certain popular phanfiction idea won't work canonically, but it really drives home why I love the story so much and, well, it makes me feel a little bit better about not being so E/C friendly in this fic.

Third: 5-year POTO-versary was 12/13/2018. Okay, I sort of lied about the POTO-versary chapter thing being CH25…thanks a lot, reality. But next chapter, you'll see how this whole thing plays itself out! Hopefully. Maybe. Probably. And the idea for the POTO-versary will happen…as soon as there is a slot.

Thoughts? Comments? Critiques? Favorites? Aaaaaanyyyyythiiiiiing?

Last thing I promise: there's a pole on my profile about a possible story idea...vote?


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